


Lay Your Finger Anywhere Down

by wordplay



Series: AV!Verse [8]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:30:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordplay/pseuds/wordplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving out, moving on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Evanston, IL

**Author's Note:**

> The chapters are of wildly variable length, because some days on the road are just more interesting than others. The route these two follow can be seen on Google Maps, [here](http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&source=s_d&saddr=lima+oh&daddr=I-74+W+to:I-680+W+to:US-385+N+to:I-15+S+to:I-80+W+to:Lowell+Ave&hl=en&geocode=FZeubQId9qf8-imjKngHSfI-iDHCKab_rZChcA%3BFUwkeQIdmv2a-g%3BFQjodgId3HNH-g%3BFeq-gQId2MPd-Q%3BFeL2bwIdsJhU-Q%3BFbJKWwIdKDDc-A%3BFQlGOwIdPDq4-A&mra=ls&sll=41.590797,-87.344055&sspn=1.31467,3.348083&ie=UTF8&ll=40.505446,-89.25293&spn=5.312241,13.392334&z=7).
> 
> The title comes from the Indigo Girls song, "Get Out the Map".
> 
> (This was originally published on [LJ](http://wordplayitout.livejournal.com/1784.html) in the summer of 2011. A more complete author's note is available at that site.)

Finn watches them going back and forth, the latest round of who-gets-what underway with a vengeance, and is suddenly glad he's never moved in with a girlfriend. And Mallory and Blaine have never even slept together.

"Mal, no! 30 minutes arguing at Target, and you _still_ got what you wanted."

"That's because you suck at Rock-Paper-Scissors."

"Yes, I still cry about that. My point is that you should take them, because you always liked them better."

"Blaine, you're not going to California with no plates. Look, there's six place settings. Take three," she says, pulling the plates down and starting to wrap them.

"It's stupid to break the set up. Besides, there's only two mugs left."

"Man, we should have stuck Dustin with the damn dishes."

Kurt breezes through the room. "If it matters at all, I already packed the Fiestaware," he tosses out, before heading back into the bedroom.

Blaine gives Mallory a deadpan look. "He packed the Fiestaware," and she just makes a face in return.

"Of course he did. Fine. I'm keeping the Anderson-Graham commemorative dishes. You'll miss our crappy dishes the first time Kurt makes you sleep on the couch when you break a plate." She shoves the plates back into the cabinet and looks around. "What about the pans?"

Blaine just looks at her, a bit lost.

"God, you're useless in here. I'm just going to go ask Kurt," and she stomps out of the room.

Finn watches her go. "I like her. Feisty."

"Fort Wayne is not going to know what hit it - she's going to work for the Journal-Gazette," Blaine offeres.

"No way, really? We'll have to have her out to dinner - Mom'll love her. We'll take good care of her." Blaine looks at Finn, thinking about the way he watched Mallory, and feels like he has to say _something_.

"Look, Finn, I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"What?" Finn looks over at him, confusion on his face. "Oh, man, not like that." He looks back at the hallway where Mallory had disappeared. "Well, I mean, maybe? But she's just a cool girl. And besides, that's just what family does."

Blaine just smiles and hopes Mallory remembers to ask Kurt about appliances.

***

Six hours later they lay exhausted in the living room, the remnants of pizza, salad, wings and beer all around them. Finn had stretched out on the floor, staring at the ceiling, and Mallory was lying on her side on the other side of the coffee table, idly picking the olives off of a piece of pizza. Kurt had slid his salad bowl onto the coffee table and settled with his head in Blaine's lap, and Blaine idly stroked his hand through Kurt's hair and gazed around the room.

"It looks so different in here."

Mallory hums and looks around. "It's strange how little it changed when we were packing up Dustin, and how different it looks now." She grimaces at Blaine, and he nods at her, a similar look on his face. Dustin had fallen in love, _really_ fallen this time, for a boy he'd met on just another night in the bar, and by spring break he'd left their little apartment to move across town. It's been odd these last couple of months with just the two of them in the apartment, but it's also been peaceful, relaxed, and neither of them can really regret it.

Finn rubs at his belly and, three beats too late, says, "Who's Dustin?" Mallory snorts and faceplants on the carpet, Blaine looks confused, and Kurt rolls his eyes and just says, "Later, Finn."

***

Blaine eases the door closed behind him and leans against it. His eyes glitter with mischief when he says, "Your step-brother and my roommate are out there making eyes at each other."

Kurt groans, "God, don't tell me things like that just before bed." He collapses back onto the bed, rubbing his hand over his eyes.

Blaine sits next to him, snorting out a laugh. "I can't figure out who that's going to end up worse for."

"Me. There is no way it won't be worst for me." Kurt throws his arm over his head and turns his face toward Blaine, and his smile is small and bitter and just a little genuinely amused.

Blaine brushes Kurt's hair back from his face. "You look tired."

"Thank you. And I'm fine. It's just been a long day, and tomorrow will be another one."

He reaches over and runs his fingers up and down the pale skin of Kurt's forearm and then slides his fingers into his open palm. Kurt's hand is loosely curled, and it's easy to lace their fingers together; Kurt squeezes back instantly.

"How tired are you?"

Kurt smirks at him. "Not _that_ tired. What did you have in mind?"

He kicks off his shoes and leans over to straddle Kurt on the bed. He finds his other hand and brings it up over Kurt's head, too, so he can hold both of his hands and press them into the bed. He leans down to nuzzle his nose against Kurt's and then goes to his neck to breathe him in - clean sweat, stale air-conditioning, and the hint of his shampoo.

He whispers against his ear, "I think you need to fuck me."

Kurt slides his hands from beneath Blaine's and run them down his back until they rest on his ass. "My work is never done. I have to pack up your stuff, take it home with me, then move it all over to the pod to be shipped out. And now you want sex, too?" His tone is mock aggrieved, playfully bitchy, and fully belied by the way he's starting to knead at Blaine's ass, and Blaine nips at his ear in retaliation.

"Yep."

"Last hurrah in your old bedroom?"

"Hey, after tonight this bed isn't just mine anymore; she's _ours_. Let's send her into storage with some good memories."

"Your tendency to anthropomorphize your furniture can only lead to trouble, you realize. What if I go shy again?"

"Less sass, more sex, please," Blaine says against his ear, and he follows it up with a nip while he grinds his hips around, down to press against Kurt's crotch and then up, so his ass pushes back against Kurt's grip.

"So _bossy_ ," Kurt gasps as Blaine sucks at his throat..

"You love it," Blaine says with one last kiss as he pushes himself back up to sitting. "Now. Let me help you out of your clothes."

"It's the least you could do, really." Kurt's hands fall back down beside his head, thrown up in gentle, weary surrender, but his eyes are on Blaine's face as he works his way down the buttons of Kurt's shirt.

***

The next morning is gloriously lazy, and Blaine lies in bed to watch the sunlight move across the bare walls of his room. Kurt wakes early, pads into the bathroom and then back, and snuggles up against his side to doze fitfully for a few more hours. Blaine loves everything about this morning - how open-ended the day feels and the way Kurt clutches at him when he shifts drowsily and turns around and around, trying to get comfortable before he settles back in pretty much the same position where he started, pillowed against Blaine's shoulder. He cranes his neck to try to catch a glimpse of the alarm clock that's now sitting on the floor of his room; they'd packed up everything but the bed and a few of his clothes, the things he'll be taking home with him and will need before they meet their moving pod out in California. It's 8:37 am on a Monday, 3 days after his college graduation, and he feels free, weightless.

Kurt draws in a deep breath and blows it back out again, his warm breath stirring the hair on Blaine's chest. "Hey," he says, his voice still rough with sleep.

"Good morning."

"What time 'sit?"

"Just a little after 8:30."

There's a pause, and then Kurt sighs. "Shit. We need to get up." He places one hand on Blaine's chest to lever himself into a seated position, but Blaine grabs at his hand and keeps him there.

"Not quite yet. Stay here with me for a minute."

Kurt collapses back onto his shoulder, and Blaine keeps his hand tucked against his heart and slides his other arm under his shoulder to wrap around him.

They're quiet for long minutes, just breathing together, and finally Kurt says, in a clearer voice, "Are you still thinking about leaving tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Once we pack up the bed I'm mostly done, but Mal couldn't get her truck moved up from Wednesday, so I'll spend another night here. It'll be good to just... be here.

"Your mother's going to be fine with that?"

Blaine shrugs. "She should be."

"It's still weird to me that they didn't want to help you move out."

Blaine just laughs. "When have they ever helped with the moves? I'm not sure they even know _how_. They've been in that house since I was three, and even then I'm pretty sure they paid somebody to do most of the hard stuff. It's just easier this way."

"Yeah." Kurt's quiet for a minute, and then he pushes himself up to one elbow. "Okay. Let's make the magic happen. Time to go - come on, get up."

Blaine looks at Kurt. He's wide awake now, and Blaine can see his face starting to take on some of its usual energy, his mind ticking over the list of things that need to be done. "One day I'm going to teach you how to _properly_ spend a lazy morning in bed."

"Plenty of time for that. Now come on. It'll take me half an hour to get Finn moving." And with that, Kurt's up and off the bed, moving into the bathroom to start the shower running.

Blaine pushes himself up to sit, and stares around his empty room, and smiles.


	2. Interlude - A Matter of Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this short interlude comes from [this Girlyman song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XK4O9YG3DH8).

After Kurt left; after Blaine had pushed him into the back of his door one last time for one last long kiss in that bedroom that had been a haven for them; after Kurt had twirled Mal around the living room by her hands and made her collapse, giggling, to the sofa, and then kissed her on the crown of her head; after Mal and Finn had exchanged email addresses while Kurt looked on with one raised brow; after the whirl of that last departure had settled and Blaine and Mal had watched Finn and Kurt drive the ungainly truck out of their narrow street; after all that, Mallory elbowed Blaine in the side and said, "hey, let's go for a walk."

They walked to campus, walked past Sargent arm-in-arm and held the door for a pair of underclassmen who were struggling to get a heavy trunk through and out to a car waiting by the curb.

Mallory leaned her shoulder against his as the kids puffed ahead of them, and she nodded her head toward the dining hall.

"Always the gentleman, Mister Anderson."

He smiled. "God, that seems like a lifetime ago."

"Not so long, really. But I do feel so much _older_."

"This week? Join the club."

She scoffed. "I don’t want to hear it from you – you just signed yourself up for three more years of this."

Blaine smiled, sweet and wistful. "Yeah. But they'll be good years." She knew what that look was about, so she just rolled her eyes and carried on.

"And I'll be toiling away in Fort Wayne Fucking Indiana."

"Hey, it's a job." They'd had this conversation so many times that they both knew their lines, but this time she deviated from the script.

"We'll still be friends, won't we? And not just Facebook, oh-her-she-used-to-be-my-roommate friends?"

He stopped short and pulled her around, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Hey. We will _always_ be friends. Don't get maudlin on me now." He stared at her, and she just looked back at him, and then made a face. "Buy me an ice cream cone, Graham. You owe me."

She rolled her eyes and shrugged him off. The dining hall was on a skeletal staff – everybody was heading out, shutting down for a few weeks before summer school kicked back in with a vengeance – but she shelled out for two soft-serve cones while Blaine gave her ridiculous and unsolicited advice on how to deal with boys, just for old times' sake. By the time they were walking out of their old dining hall, he was wrapping it up.

"I think, ultimately? The thing to do is to make an ass of yourself over somebody else. It _really_ makes guys go wild."

"You think so, huh?" She smirked at him, but he was gazing out somewhere over N. Campus Drive.

"Absolutely. It totally worked for me. Look at Kurt – back in high school, he just pined from afar for months until I went after somebody else, and then _that day_ he let me know he was interested. And then, you know, our freshman year."

"What are you _talking_ about – you were broken up for half of freshman year!"

"Exactly. Somehow, though, Kurt found out that there were other guys in the picture, that I was meeting people at parties and getting ready to start dating. Wonder how that happened." He licked a long stripe along his cone and gave her that cheesy, self-satisfied grin, and then he dashed away, running across the road while she stared after him.

"Oh my god, Anderson, don't let me catch you!" she called, and she took off after him.

She caught up to him by the Searle Building, where he had braced himself against a bike rack and was leaning a bit so his cone could drip on the pavement. "I can't believe you knew."

He took a bite of the cone and held his fist over his mouth while he chewed. "I didn't. Kurt told me this morning."

"That little bastard. I can't believe he kept it secret all this time and then cracked at the last minute."

"Mallory, we don't _have_ a last minute. Weren't you listening?" She smiled and shook her head. "Besides, he told me so that I could thank you properly."

She laughed, a little embarrassed.

"It mattered. I don't know what you said –" "Fuck, neither do I," she mumbled. "– but whatever it was, it gave him pause, made him just stop and…." Blaine struggled to articulate it, and she stepped in with an assist.

"Collaborate and listen?"

"Yes. That was exactly his response. He takes all his emotional cues from Vanilla Ice," he deadpanned at her. She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Mal."

"You're being painfully earnest," she said, rubbing at the inner corner of her right eye.

"I know, and don't pretend that you hate it." They stared each other down, and finally Blaine sighed and said, "Look, all I'm saying is, _thank you_. It was nosy as hell and three years ago I would have been really pissed, I think, but now it's just... it's perfectly _you_. You've been an excellent friend, Mal; you _are_ a wonderful friend. Thank you."

She smiled at him, her eyes watery, and he slung his arm around her shoulder.

"C'mon, let's go to the soccer fields. There's bound to be people there, and it's warm enough that they might take their shirts off."

"You're on."

***

There were; a handful of guys were playing shirts and skins and as the afternoon passed they all turned into skins, much to Mal's delight.

They watched the guys, picked their favorites and mocked and admired each other's taste and then agreed to a swap, and when their asses started to get sore on the benches they wandered down to the lake. They flashed their student IDs for access to the beach and nodded while the student attendant told them that unless they re-enrolled for the fall, they'd only have access to the beach for another 4 days.

Blaine led the way to the edge of the water and he stared out, gazing out over Lake Michigan at the Chicago skyline.

"It's so pretty here," she said.

"It is." Blaine stared out at the water, at the while sails cluttering up the lake and the clouds above them. "I spent so much time thinking about being somewhere else, but I'm really going to miss it here."

Mal elbowed him. "Take a picture."

Blaine pulled out his phone, and they started trying to line up a shot that contained most of both of their heads, enough of the Chicago skyline to be recognizable, and no weird faces. Fifteen minutes later they finally had their shot and they started their walk back along the lake, past their old performance space, past the halls where they'd had most of their classes, past The Rock and their favorite spots on the lawn for bagels and 20 minutes of peace and quiet. This time they walked a little slower, took a little longer, and laughed a little bit less.

***

They settled on a slumber party in her bed, with "Bring It On" for entertainment and the leftovers of last night's pizza and beer for dinner.

"Condiments of your choice - let's clear this crap out of here." Mallory pulled jar after bottle of condiments from the rapidly emptying refrigerator while Blaine poked at the pizza in the oven, seeing if it was hot enough yet. "Okay, what do you want on your pizza? We have... soy sauce, mayo, hot sauce, _more_ hot sauce, buffalo wing sauce, hot mustard, yellow mustard, Dijon mustard... oh, and fish sauce. And ketchup." He looked at her like she was nuts, just like he'd been looking at her for years. "Come on, Anderson, pick your poison. Chop chop."

"I am not putting any of that on my pizza."

"Loser."

"We'll see who the loser is when that turns your stomach," he said, pointing at the streaky mess she was mixing up on the corner of her paper plate with the point of the pizza he was sliding onto the other side of the plate.

"No, we'll see who the loser is when you're begging me for some of my buffalo soy mustard dipping sauce for your overbaked pizza crusts."

"That's disgusting. I take back what I said about you and Finn. You're _made_ for each other."

She glanced sidelong at him. "You didn't say anything about me and Finn."

He smirked and took a drag from his beer. "Not to you, I didn't," and he scooped his plate off the counter and took off for her bedroom.

She called after him, "I don't know what you think you're running from - you're sleeping in my bed tonight. Blaine? _Blaine!_ "

***

The movie was over and their plates were sitting in a messy pile next to Mallory's bed.

"It feels like the night before your wedding."

They were lying in Mal's bed, music turned on low and they were both staring straight up the ceiling. Blaine rolled his head to face her and laughed. "What are you _talking_ about?"

She didn't move. "This is what sisters are supposed to do before one of them gets married - they stay up late talking and, I don't know, they braid each other's hair and eat ice cream and talk about boys."

"Mal, honey, I love you but I am still not letting you put it in cornrows."

"No, I just -" She waved her hand around the room.

He rolled toward her, pillowing his head on his arms so that he was still facing her. "I know. I feel it, too. I can't believe it's our last night in this apartment."

After a moment, she looked at him and said, "We were really shitty roommates to Dustin."

"We probably were."

"He was shitty to us first."

He sighed. "He really, really was."

***

They had turned off the TV, and the bedside lamp was the only light in the room. Mallory sputtered, "Oh, please. You love me! Who put ice on your back when you thought it would be a good idea to wax it?"

"That was just once!"

"Well, yeah! Good thing, too - god, you were such a baby."

"Just the first time! It was new!"

"Just - oh my god, you did it again?!"

"And you never noticed. I think I'm hurt."

"Oh my god, are you - are you doing it all the time now?!"

He just smiled and shook his head.

"Blaine!" She grabbed at his arm. "Tell me!"

"Not just my back, either," he whispered.

"No! Shit, did you -" 

He shook his head again.

"A boyzilian. You didn't!" She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide.

He cocked his head and shook it one more time, this time with a sly grin on his face.

She just stared.

"Wow. Four years and I finally got to see you speechless," he said, grinning wider.

"And all you had to do was tell me that you paid someone to rip the hair off your balls."

"Mallory! And besides, I didn't say that."

She just stared at him, and said, "Oh my god, I'm never going to know, am I?"

"You know, it's a little weird that you're this invested in the state of my pubic hair," he said, turning back to face the ceiling.

"Are you kidding me? Besides, _what_ pubic hair?"

He lazily swiped at her with the back of his hand.

***

They were both lying propped up on their stomachs, passing a pint of only slightly freezer-burnt frozen yogurt they'd pulled out of the back of the freezer.

"Hmmm. Dirtiest thing you've ever done."

"Public sex," Blaine said around a spoonful.

"Kurt?"

"Of course." He grinned down into the container. "You?"

She took the proffered pint, and said "Threesome."

"No way! Boy or girl?"

"One of each?"

"No way! Mal, you got busy with a girl? Who?"

She stopped digging for brownie bits to glare at him. "Excuse me, Mr. I've-known-I-was-gay-since-I-was-14. There is a long history of girl-on-girl experimentation in college; it's traditional."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Are you asserting your rights as a part-time lesbian now? And _who_?"

She passed the yogurt back into his grabby hands. "No way am I telling you, Silky Smooth. And it was okay. I think I'd do it again, but only if the girl was _really_ hot, and only if there was a guy there. Turns out, I'm really into guys."

"This is surprising new information to me."

"Oh, like you're one to talk," she scoffed.

"What does that mean?"

"Our bedrooms _share a wall_ , Blaine. I should also remind you that your bedroom shares a wall with the living room. I'm sure Finn knows you're into guys, too."

"Oh my god, shut up."

***

"Does it bother you that you'll never have sex with anybody else again?"

Blaine shrugged against the pillow. "Not really? I mean, if I think about it, it's kind of weird. But it's not...." His voice drifted off, and he stared at the ceiling for a long time.

She elbowed him, too lazy and sleepy to do much damage.

"It's not like that." He paused for just a second, and then he said, "The thing is, I think Kurt would open up our relationship in a heartbeat if he thought I wanted to. He's hinted at it before, but it just.... "

He turned to face her, and they both curled up on their sides, knees touching and faces just inches apart. "It's been hard. You _know_ how hard it's been. And I don't have anything against the idea - I think it makes sense, and I know it works for some couples. But opening it up while we were separated... I don't know, it just felt like too much of what I wasn't having was going to go to somebody else." She nodded.

"So, you know, it's not like Kurt has trapped me here. This is what we want, for now, what we _both_ want, and I think that if and when we both feel differently, we'll talk about it."

She stared at him for a minute. " _God_ , I'm jealous as hell of what you two have," she breathed out.

He grinned. "Six months ago I would have told you not to be, because god, that was - it wasn't great. It was stupid - I should have just gone to NYU like I always said I would. But now? Yeah, you should totally be jealous. It's amazing."

"If you'd gone to NYU, you never would have known me. And it all worked out okay, didn't it?"

"Easy enough choice then, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

They were quiet for a while, and Mallory had just started to drift off when Blaine softly said, "Mal, I should tell you."

"Mmm, what?"

"I should tell you. I'm going to marry Kurt."

"Yeah, that's not news, Blaine. Everybody who's met you in the last year knows that." Her eyes fluttered to stay open.

"No, I mean, I'm going to marry him _soon_."

And that got her attention, and she struggled to wake up enough to listen. "Wait... _what_?"

Blaine had a sweet, calm smile on his face. "I'm going to marry him soon, as soon as he'll let me. I just... I haven't told my parents yet. Hell, I guess... I mean, we've talked about it, but technically I haven't even told _Kurt_ yet."

"Are you going to ask him?"

"That's what I mean. Technically we've already... well, we asked each other. But I'm going to ask him to set a date, I think, on the trip out."

"Jesus, Blaine," she swore on an exhale. "You don't mess around, do you?"

He shrugs, and there's a serenity to his face. He's not scared, or nervous, he's just leaning forward with no fear and complete anticipation of joy. "There's no point. I'm so ready - I just want to dive into it, I want to dive into my life with him, and I'm tired of waiting for any of it."

"Wow," she breathed out.

He grinned at her. "Speechless _again_. This might be my favorite night ever."

"You'll let me know early so I can... I mean, can I be there?"

He looked hurt, just for a second, and then he pulled her into his arms. "Mal, you _have_ to be there. Please tell me you'll come. I mean, whenever it is." He paused. "I feel stupid having this desperate conversation _now_." He chuckled self-consciously.

She pulled back to look at him and flopped facedown onto her pillow, keeping her head turned toward him. "He'll say yes. I mean, he'll probably make you work for it, but shit, Blaine, he's ass over teakettle for you."

He scrubbed at his hair and smiled a little dopily at the ceiling. "Yeah."

"Oh my god, you're getting _married_."

"Eventually."

"Eventually. _Still_. Holy shit," she breathed out, and then chuckled.

"Pretty much, yeah."

They lay there for a while, and eventually Mal mumbled, "I'm really glad you told me."

"Blaine?" She woozily lifted her head and cracked an eye to peek over at him.

He jerked his head toward her a little, let out an "Mmmm?"

"Nothing, go back to sleep. See you in the morning."

"G'night, Mal."

She scooted her toes closer until they could rest against his calf, furry and warm, and then she drifted off to sleep.


	3. (Day 0) Lima, Ohio

Friday morning Blaine calls Kurt just as he's turning into their neighborhood and asks him to meet him outside; surprising Kurt is a singular joy, and he will _always_ want another chance at it.

Kurt's brow is raised when Blaine gets out of the car and tosses his sunglasses back into the driver's seat. He says nothing for a long moment, and then smiles and holds eye contact as he shouts, "DAD! Dad, get out here!"

He grins at Kurt until Kurt kisses him on the cheek and then disappears into the car, shoving the sunglasses out of the way. Burt walks out, pulling his cap onto his head. "Dammit, Kurt, it's 9:30 in the – oh, hey, look at that. New car?"

"Graduation gift from my parents," he says. "And good morning."

Kurt pops his head out from where he's been fiddling with the collapsible cupholders and poking at the storage consoles. "It even still _smells_ new. God, I love this car."

"Well, after the trip I'm sure it'll smell like french fries, so enjoy it now," he says, and he turns from Kurt's playful glare to grin at Burt, who's frowning.

"I don't know how I feel about you taking a new car on a long trip. It's usually not a good idea."

Blaine just stares at Burt for a second , and Kurt stands up and fixes his dad with a look. "This is the car we're taking. If you're that worried about it, spend a few minutes under the hood and check it out. We're going to be packing all day anyway."

And that's how it goes – Burt pokes at things and checks connections and mumbles to himself, and Blaine helps Kurt carry his boxes and bags from the foyer to the car. Just once he corners him, presses him up against the wall and surprises him again by kissing him long and hard, and when he breaks away, Kurt whispers against his mouth, "Are you ready for this?"

"Always. Always. Still in love with you," he says, and Kurt drops his hand luggage to wrap his arms around Blaine's neck and pull him closer.

***

They finally finish loading (and unloading, and reloading) just in time to clean up for an early dinner. Blaine spends his shower trying to forget about whether he'll be able to see over the wardrobe line Kurt's strung in the backseat and thinking about the evening ahead of them, and there's something about tonight that makes him want to take it nice and quiet. He's sore from all the packing and the hot water is amazing, but he feels tender and a little trepidatious.

Even though he's spent the last several months (the last _four years_ ) looking forward to this, he's never quite been able to imagine what it would feel like. He thought maybe pure elation, or simple unqualified joy. And that's there, sort of, but there's also the phantom of an ache in his belly and he wants to curl around it, like this place they've come to is so precious, so perfect, and any movement away from what they've been able to hold together and the giddy joy of finishing that phase will destroy it all. He's left his apartment, he's left his parents' home, and tomorrow he'll leave here, too. It isn't that he's not ready; it's more that he just wants everything to freeze, right now, just for another little while.

On his way back out of the bathroom he instinctively dodges right to avoid hitting his left hip on Kurt's dressing table; so many late night collisions left a lingering bruise the summer after his sophomore year. He's thrown all over again when he dodges for nothing, because right, the table's not there now, and he takes a minute, his hair dripping down his back, to take in what's left of Kurt's room.

The walls are the same soft grey, and it's the same bedding Kurt's been using for the last year or two. But everything that had made this place vibrant, made it _Kurt's_ space, is gone. It's been going for a while, disappearing with a photo or a box set of DVDs shoved into a corner of his luggage when he's on his way back to school. But Kurt and Carole have been busy for weeks turning this space into a perfect guest room, and it shows. Kurt's books and decorative boxes have all been shipped west, and in their place is a sparse collection of knick-knacks and things without utility. The room is beautiful, of course it is, but just for a moment Blaine feels the absence of everything that's missing, and he focuses on what's left – one framed photograph of the two of them at the junior prom, the tacky crown at a ridiculous angle on Kurt's head to match his silly smile. He turns the frame over and looks at his own handwriting across the back: "My own prince – just what I always wanted." He'd written it there on a whim during their senior year of high school, one day when Kurt had run downstairs to help his dad with something and had left his collection of Sharpies scattered across his desk. He runs his finger over the inscription – the frame's been dusted, and so Kurt's doubtless seen it, but he's never said a word. He has an idea, and he smiles and gets dressed.

By the time he's back downstairs, Carole and Kurt are working quietly together in the kitchen and Burt's stretched out in a recliner, watching baseball on ESPN. Burt talks about baseball, talks about Blaine's car and the accelerator, and mostly Blaine just sits and listens.

"You remember the night of your first date with Kurt?"

Blaine looks at him and smiles, and he knows the look on his face is fond, sweet. He remembers kissing Kurt in his car and on the front porch of this house, remembers really not giving a damn about _Jane Eyre_ and caring so, so much about what this man thought of him. "I do."

"Man, I was so sure you were going to break his heart."

"I wouldn't." Blaine hesitates for just a minute, and then says, just in case, "I won't."

Burt sighs and looks at him, that piercing eye contact that Blaine spent months avoiding when he was first getting to know him, when he was falling in love with his son.

"I know. I'm real proud of you boys – you've worked hard, you've stayed committed, and you finally made it. That's something pretty special. Congratulations."

He just stares at Burt. "I… well, thank you."

Burt gives him a narrow look. "You looking forward to getting on the road tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure," he shrugs.

"You freaking out?"

" _God, totally_ ," he breathes out.

Burt just laughs and says, "Welcome to adulthood, Blaine. It only gets less clear from here." He uses the arms of his recliner to push himself into a stand, and then reaches a hand for Blaine to pull him up. "Let's go see if they need any help getting dinner on the table," and then when he pulls Blaine up by his hand, he doesn't stop tugging. Burt is _hugging_ him, squeezing his shoulders, and he whispers one more time, "Real proud of _both_ of you," before he's turning to head into the kitchen. It only lasts a second, and when he's facing Burt from the other side of the dinner table he gives no indication that they'd had a moment there, but Blaine will never forget it.

***

Later that night, after they'd all lingered over dinner and dessert to empty a bottle of wine, twining together reminiscences and plans for the immediate future, he climbs into bed and settles onto Kurt's shoulder, sliding their legs together and resting a hand over his heart.

"You okay?" he asks, letting his fingers slip through the fair hair across Kurt's chest.

"Yes. Just… you know. Thinking about tomorrow." Kurt pauses, then hums into Blaine's hair before he says, "It feels different this time."

"It _is_ different this time."

"Still. It's not like we'll never be back."

"No, that's true." Blaine props himself up on an elbow. "But when we come back, we won't be kids anymore."

Kurt smirks at him and slides a hand down his back, sneaking into the back of Blaine's boxers to squeeze at his ass. "We haven't been kids for a long time. Need a reminder?"

Blaine kisses him, sweet and lush and long, sliding his hand into Kurt's fine hair, and Kurt reaches for his shoulder to hold him there. Last night he'd lain in his bed in his parents' house, so foreign after all this time thinking about home as somewhere else. Now he thinks about the first time he kissed Kurt in this bed, how desperate he had been to be _closer_ and how scared he'd been that somebody would walk in. Years worth of kisses blur together in his head – the desperate first night home, the lingering last morning together, and all the mornings and nights in-between. They've spent a lot of nights in their beds at school, but this one was the first and it's the closest they've come to a permanent bed of their _own_. Tomorrow night they'll start finding a whole line of temporary places to rest until they settle, finally, together, and they put Kurt's sheets on his bed.

"Hey, you still with me?" Kurt mumbles against his mouth, the wet slide of his lips against his own so familiar, so perfect.

He pulls back a little. This view of Kurt is one he carries around with him, the Kurt most private and personal and dear to his heart. He's dimly lit from the bedside lamp, his face open and attentive and calm, his shoulders bare and strong against the sheets. He cradles his face, brushing his thumb over his cheek while Kurt just blinks slowly up at him. "Yeah. Kiss me again," and Kurt is pushing at him, easing him down so they're on their sides and curling into each other. Kurt slides closer and throws a leg around his hip, pushing his heel into Blaine's thighs to snug him just that much closer as he kisses him, dizzingly slow, and _god_ that's just what he needs, just their mouths and bodies pressed together here.

They go slow, quiet and almost completely still, stretching it out like they both know it'll be the last time, only it really, really won't. And when he comes into Kurt's hand after just the barest of squeezes, he moans into Kurt's mouth and Kurt swallows it down into a kiss – instinct and habit and consideration for everybody sharing the house all there in that one move, and for just a moment Blaine revels in the knowledge that soon it won't be necessary.


	4. (Day 1) Lima, Ohio to Davenport, Iowa - 380 miles

They're up early, eager to get a day of familiar ground behind them. Blaine showers while Kurt shoves the sheets in the washer and dusts his old bedroom one last time, taking a moment to peek at the back of the picture frame on the shelf, the one momento he'd left in this room to mark it as his. Blaine had written him a note there, long ago, and it's become a old habit to take a peek at it from time to time when he's here, just to remind himself of everything they'd been through. This morning he sees a new addition – next to the broad lines of the original scrawl, there's a thin blue inscription: "Still making dreams come true." He puts the frame back on the shelf with a smile, and presses a hand to his heart.

Carole shoves travel mugs of coffee and a bag full of packed snacks into their hands while they're on their way out the door, and Kurt whispers into her hair when they're standing next to Blaine's car.

His dad's gone quiet and withdrawn, admonishing Blaine about speed traps and good mileage while Blaine just nods along. His dad comes to him, then, and squeezes him tight one more time. "Make sure you help him with the driving - take turns, okay? Road fatigue is a real thing, I don't care how young you are." Kurt just smiles at him and says, "I love you, dad," and hugs him again before he slides into the passenger seat.

Blaine is cheerful and upbeat by the time after they've headed west out of Lima, and Kurt turns and leans against the door to watch him bounce and sing along to the first of the playlists they've compiled for this trip. He clutches his coffee mug to his chest long after it's a little too cool to still be drinkable, and watches the "Ohio welcomes you to the heart of it all!" sign blow past behind Blaine as they cross into Indiana.

Blaine turns to him with a smile. "First state line!"

Kurt smirks at him. "It's always a pleasure to leave Ohio."

Blaine bobbles his head back and forth, and then reaches for Kurt's hand. He drops a kiss on the knuckles and then places Kurt's palm on his own thigh. "Not always." He slides a sidelong glance at Kurt. "I've done this drive a lot, and I've _never_ been this glad to cross that particular state line."

Kurt watches his profile as Blaine stares down the expanse of Highway 30 and thinks about it. He's never done the Chicago drive with Blaine; their schedules were always too off, and NYU always started before Northwestern did. For years they've been ending the summer at the airport in Dayton or Columbus, and then Blaine would go home and kill a few days before heading to Evanston as early as he could. Blaine had called him from the road so many times, to say hi or to kill time or to ask a question or just to get Kurt to help him stay awake, and Kurt's imagined him here every time. He should have thought about it when he and Finn were making the drive up to Chicago to help Blaine pack, but he'd been so buried in his lists and his plans that he'd forgotten to just _look_ , and to remember.

"Glad I could help," Kurt says, with a squeeze to Blaine's leg.

And Blaine turns and gives him a brilliant smile and says, "You always do," before his eyes are back on the road.

They drive on in silence, just the music keeping them company, and now Kurt keeps his eyes on the road and on Blaine, soaking up the scenery and bearing witness.

***

He comes to when Blaine is rolling to a stop and putting the car in park. He remembers chatting with Blaine all the way through Fort Wayne, joking about Mallory's future life there, stirring up trouble for the poor unsuspecting populace, and then the rest is lost in a blur of hazy impressions and muted music.

"Where are we?" he asks, and his voice is a little scratchy; he must have been sleeping with his mouth wide open. Charming.

Blaine unbuckles his seat belt and looks over at him with a gentle smile. "Well good morning again. We're just outside of Gary, about to pick up I-80."

"I'm sorry." Kurt stretches. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's not a problem. You were adorable - you were snoring, just a little bit."

"God," he mutters, running a hand over his face to surreptitiously check for drool. "That's attractive."

"I don't know, it worked for me," and Blaine leans over to kiss him, soft and sweet, pressing him back up against the door, one hand heavy on his chest for balance, before he pulls away and nuzzles their noses together. "Mmm, I've wanted to do that for the last hour."

"Are you saying I'm a distraction?" he teases.

"Of the very best kind," and then Blaine's pulling away. "Now come on - this is one of my usual stops. Cleanest bathrooms in the area - trust me on that one."

When they make it back to the car, bags of baby carrots and bottled water in hand, Kurt leans against the drivers door and holds out his hand. Blaine just raises both brows and passes over the keys, and Kurt settles into the drivers seat.

He looks around for the ignition switch and then cuts his eyes back to Blaine, who is plugging in his phone. "Are you sure you're okay with me driving your new car? I didn't even ask."

He just shrugs and fiddles with his phone, not even looking up. "It's _our_ car, now that you don't have one. Might as well get used to it."

Kurt grins at the steering wheel, and then says, "Okay, then."

***

As they approach the exchange to I-80, Kurt glances over at Blaine, who's beaming out the windshield.

" _What_ is that look on your face? I'm seeing nothing about Gary, Indiana that should inspire _that_."

Blaine's smile only grows. "That look is absolute glee. I can't tell you how many times I've driven through this mixing bowl, and since December every time I have I've thought, 'Next summer, Kurt and I are going west, and this is where we'll start out.' And here we are, and you're driving so I don't have to pay attention and can just...."

"Be sentimental."

"Absolutely."

Kurt raises a brow and says, "Well hold on then. We're about to take the ramp. Don't keel over with excitement."

Thirty seconds later they're headed due west on I-80, and Kurt asks, "So. Was it everything you thought it would be?"

Blaine just gives him an impish smile. "You should ask me that again later."

Kurt smiles to himself.

***

Three and a half hours later they've gone quiet. Blaine is engrossed in something on his iPad, and Kurt's tired of scrolling through playlists to find entertainment. He's just about to start whining when he sees it.

"Oh thank god," he breathes out.

"Hmmm?" Blaine asks.

"Iowa," and Kurt's pretty sure that nobody since Lewis and Clark has been this glad to see the Mississippi River.

"Oh, are we almost there?" Blaine almost sounds disappointed.

"What are you _reading_ over there?"

"It's Judy Shepard's book."

"Judy Shepard, Matthew Shepard's mother?"

"That's the one."

"It's that good?"

Blaine flips the cover of his iPad closed, and looks at it for a minute. "It's... objectively? It's probably a little overly personal for my needs - I'm never going to be somebody's mother, so that's a weird point of view. But, mostly? It reminds me of how lucky we are."

Blaine reaches over to lay his hand on Kurt's knee, and they drive in silence for a few minutes until Blaine flips open his iPad again to check for directions.

\---

"That was the turn for our hotel."

Kurt grins and keeps driving. "You didn't ask what my parents gave _me_ for college graduation."

Blaine's brows shoot up. "Well do tell."

"Cash. Which is actually what I told them I needed when they asked, to help pay for this trip and to help us settle in to the new place. But this was _way_ more cash than I anticipated, so I cancelled our old reservations and made some new arrangements for this evening." He glances over to Blaine and sees a small frown in return.

"Are they... I don't want to pry, but - "

"I asked the same thing, but my dad assures me they've had a good year, and they've just paid off the house, so." He shrugs. There's more to it than that; he and his dad had sat down for a serious talk about the future, about finances and powers of attorney and living wills, and it had been terrifying to talk about but strangely comforting, too, like taking control of something too big to really manage. It was also the last conversation Kurt hoped to _ever_ have with his dad about the dispensation of his parents' estate; he had said, one last time, that he had no interest in his dad's shop, and fully approved of it going to Finn in exchange for a larger share of the rest of their 'estate'. His dad had been embarrassed to even use the word, and Kurt had sat numb through another one of his dad's lectures on taxation, too overwhelmed by the thought that one day his dad would be _gone_ to even try to object.

"Wow."

"You're not kidding. It should be just another fifteen minutes or so." Five minutes down the road, he says, "God, this town is _adorable_. Why can't Lima look like this?"

"Who knew Iowa had it in them?"

"Well, it is a university town, I suppose. And our people have colonized it."

"God bless Iowa and its progressive marriage laws."

"Something like that, yes," and Kurt smiles.

***

Blaine waits until they're in the elevator of the [Hotel Blackhawk](http://hotelblackhawk.com/) to turn to Kurt and say, "holy shit!"

Kurt's been trying to play it cool; he's been in some beautiful spaces since he's been in New York, but he's never felt so much like he _belonged_. It's strange the difference that sliding a bank card across the desk can make, the way it makes him feel like finally, _finally_ he's really owning the beautiful life he's wanted, even if the money was a gift and even if it's in Davenport, Iowa. But hearing Blaine's excitement and seeing it written across his face melts something within him, so that he goes from sophisticated adult to excited child all over again.

"I _know_! Isn't it gorgeous? I couldn't _believe_ it was here - the restoration has been remarkable, and the dining room is impeccable."

"Kurt, they have donuts in the _lobby_."

"Mmhmm, freshly made beignets, actually."

Blaine gives him a serious look. "You should know - you are officially my favorite person ever."

"Very good to know," and Kurt can feel just how smug his smile is. It doesn't dim after Blaine walks into their room and takes in the sitting area, the glass french doors, and the door to the next room.

"You got us a _suite_?"

"I did. It was an extravagance, I know, but I wanted... right, I wanted this." Kurt goes to the double french doors across the sitting room and opens them to their private balcony, stepping out of the cool dark of their room. The old town slopes down to meet the Mississippi, which glints beneath them, late afternoon sunlight turning the water into a reflection of the light show they'll get later that night in the broad Iowa skies. He feels Blaine come forward to settle at his side, feels his hand slide into his own and lace their fingers together.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I should warn you, I haven't changed all of our reservations; some of the places we're going don't have anything _half_ as nice, and it didn't seem worthwhile to spend the extra money."

"Kurt, it really wasn't necessary to do even this."

"Don't worry about it. Really. We're traveling across the Midwest - yes, these places are more expensive than Holiday Inn, but compared to New York and Chicago and San Francisco, we're getting them for a steal."

He turns to look at Blaine, who is leaning against the railing and staring down at the water, a calm smile playing on his lips, and one unruly curl hanging over his eyes.

"Something to be said for the heartland after all," Blaine muses.

Kurt reaches out, skimming his fingers against the grain of stubble on Blaine's jawline before he tucks his hair back into place. "Many things, as it turns out."

Blaine turns to him then, his smile moving up to his eyes. "Hi there."

"Hello, handsome." He keeps a hand on Blaine's cheek, holding him close while he continues. "Here is what I know about our options for tonight: the Adler Theatre is across the street and they're hosting a Broadway touring company tonight. The bistro in the hotel is very highly-rated. The spa doesn't close for three hours. And there's a king-size bed in the next room."

Blaine's smile turns predatory when he says, "The first time we had sex in a hotel room we had _no idea_ what we were doing."

Kurt nods sagely. "This is true. We've come so far." He pauses, and then adds. "Also, I slipped a cock ring into my toiletries bag."

" _Yeah_ ," Blaine breathes out, and pulls him by the hand back inside.

***

Kurt wipes the steam from the mirror with Blaine's discarded towel. The length of the shower had felt mandatory after today's long drive, and showering together meant there were the usual distractions and two sets of tight shoulders jockeying for position under the punishingly hot spray. Blaine has vanished still damp into the bedroom, leaving Kurt to finish up his usual routine.

"Hurry _up_ , Kurt."

"Give me one more second! I'm sorry, I'll be right there." He's rushing through his bedtime routine, slapping eye cream on with both index fingers and squinting through the haze on his lashes to dig around in his bag.

"Fuck that, I'm starting without you."

"Don't you dare! You've gone months before - you can wait another few minutes." Two quick squirts of moisturizer follow, smearing across his cheeks with aimless strokes.

He hears Blaine start singing, overblown and cartoonish, through the open door. " _Blow the candles ouuuut, looks like a solo toniiiiight_ \- god yeah, that's good."

Kurt's giggling as he scoops the chrome rings out of his bag and rushes through the door into the bedroom, and then he's rooted in place.

Blaine has pulled back the curtains so that late afternoon sunlight streams in, slashing bright and bold across the bed. He's folded the comforter, the blanket and the top sheet together and lain them across the chaise near the window, just a bright white fitted sheet stretched tight across the bed. And Blaine has positioned himself there, his head tipped back against a pillow, his eyes closed and his lashes smudging dark across his cheek, his body lean and golden against expensive cotton. His spread legs are strong, darker from the knee down and paler high, where the long lines of his thighs turn into chiseled hips. Even from the doorway, Kurt can see water beading on his belly, can see his nipples peaked in a fine carpet of dark hair, can see the muscles and tendons ripple in his forearms as he slowly strokes himself. His cock is flushed, gone a little soft after so much teasing in the shower, and he's gathered his balls in his other hand to roll them against the base of his shaft.

"What do you want tonight?" he calls out, in a voice too loud for Kurt when he's standing so near.

Kurt pounces, and Blaine's eyes fly wide open. Kurt balances on one hand above him so he can hold the cock ring a few inches above Blaine's eyes, and when Blaine's eyes light up he smiles. "Let me show you," he whispers, and he starts working his way down.

\---

Three hours later Kurt slowly emerges from sleep. The light in the room has shifted into gentle, indistinct shadow and the air conditioning has kicked in, leaving them clinging to each other in their doze. Kurt stumbles off the bed, kicking the cock ring to the ground in a dull thud in the process, and fetches the blankets from the chaise, throwing them haphazardly over Blaine before he crawls back inside.

Blaine reaches for him, drowsy and pliable, and pulls him close. Face-to-face on their sides, they curl into each other and drift back to sleep.

\---

He wakes again a little later, and he's warm and deeply satisfied and he fights it, struggling to lose himself to sleep for just a moment more before he opens his eyes. Just the barest light illuminates the room, all purples in the sunset. Blaine is awake, sharing his pillow and quietly watching him sleep, and when he smiles Blaine lifts one hand to rest it on his cheek.

Blaine quietly says, "I'm so glad you're here. I'm so glad we've come this far, and that you love me, and that I get to keep you."

Kurt watches him, eyes wide. Blaine's face is relaxed, and the look in his eyes is deeply content. He strokes his thumb gently across Kurt's cheek, and he feels loved, cherished, _prized_.

"Mmm, I love that."

"What, exactly?"

"I like it when you touch my face." Kurt nuzzles into it, presses his hand to the back of Blaine's.

Blaine lights up in a sleepy, lopsided grin. "Really?"

"From the very first time you kissed me. I've never told you that?"

"No, I don't think so."

Kurt grins back. "I probably shouldn't have. Now I won't know if you're doing it because you want to or because you think I want you to."

"Why does it matter?"

"I don't know. It just does."

Kurt studies Blaine's face as he considers this, watches Blaine's eyes trace the movement of his thumb against Kurt's cheek, and then Blaine is meeting his eyes again with a soft smile. "I think it's safe for you to assume that I will _always_ want to."

Kurt's grin fades into a smile, and he thinks about how _easy_ it is to let Blaine love him right now. Just at this moment there's not a thing about it that has the potential to hurt him - no separation, no external threat. Just the two of them, wrapped up in bed together, in a hotel room. Simple.

"I think," he says, "that right at this moment, I am as perfectly happy as I have ever been."

Blaine grins, and says, "And to think: it happened in Iowa."

"Oh, the ironies," and Kurt's stomach picks that moment to growl for dinner.

"So not _perfectly_ happy, then."

"I don't know, this is pretty close."

"There's a room service menu."

Kurt sighs and closes his eyes. "I'm never leaving this hotel."

Blaine pinches at his cheek. "I thought you were coming home with me."

"Mmm, buy me dinner first, why don't you?" Kurt teases, and Blaine rests his forehead against him for a second before he rolls away with a smile. 

Kurt pushes deeper into the pillows and watches the shift of Blaine's ass as he crosses the room. He can't help gloating a little, so proud of this man that is his, and when Blaine crosses in front of the window and a shaft of orange light illuminates the bitemark on the left cheek of Blaine's ass, he gives up trying to hold himself together and smirks at the ceiling.

\---

After dinner they leave the plates in the living room and lie in bed, full and contented. Kurt's head is resting on Blaine's shoulder, their feet tangled together, and he's drifting, thinking about whether he should maximize the evening and see if Blaine is up for a long, lazy blowjob or if he should just fall asleep there. He thinks about the day they've had, about going west, about all the days and pieces of road ahead of them. He lifts his head and looks down at Blaine's content and relaxed face, and says, "Hey. Was it everything you thought it would be?"

Blaine gives him a lazy smile and says, "Ask me later."


	5. (Day 2) Davenport, Iowa to Omaha, Nebraska - 304 miles

Title: Lay Your Finger Anywhere Down (5/10)  
Author:   
Rating: NC-17  
Chapter Word Count: just around 2200  
Summary: Moving out, moving on.

Blaine wakes to the smell of pastry and coffee, and when he wanders into the living area of the suite, still pulling on a bathrobe, he finds that Kurt has thrown open the french doors to the morning.

The air is cool and Kurt is leaning against the balcony rail from the hips, his hands wrapped around a paper cup of coffee.

Blaine leans against the doorjamb and scrubs at his hair, and then says, "Still don't know how to spend a morning in bed, do you?"

Kurt turns and leans back against the rail, taking a long sip of coffee. "We have a lot of ground to cover today."

"Not really - just Iowa. It's the shortest day."

Kurt comes to him, then, swooping down to put the coffee on a small wrought-iron table by the door.

"By tonight we'll be in Nebraska," Kurt says, untying the belt of Blaine's robe to slide his hands underneath and around, to cup his shoulder-blades in his hands. "One state closer."

He wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, slides his hands into the dip of Kurt's back and lets them rest there.

"Did you bring me beignets?"

"Your priorities, as always, baffle me. But yes, I did. There's coffee there, too."

"God. Still crazy about you."

"Of course you are."

\---

Iowa is dull - the sound of their tires thumping across the landscape is a numbing drone, exactly like Blaine has always thought of the _real_ Midwest, flat and barren and nothing but farmland. Kurt complains about Ohio like it's the worst place a person could ever live, but some part of Blaine has always thought it was kind of perfect - closer to the East Coast, closer to the Lakes but still small enough for a person to be a big fish. His own life there was far from perfect, but it's still _home_ , and as they skirt past Des Moines he can't help comparing it to Columbus and finding it a bit lacking.

The drive into Omaha is different. After hours of quiet and breezing down a highway with Broadway recordings for company, there's traffic, for one thing, and there's a proper downtown area, attendant with sirens and one-way streets and what appears to be a sizable homeless population. Their hotel, at least, appears to be in a safe area, and while he collapses back onto the bedding ("Blaine, gross! At least strip off the comforter.") and stares at the ceiling, Kurt starts unpacking their clothes.

"Are we still going out tonight?" he asks, turning his head to face Kurt at the closet.

"Oh, you had better believe we are. And you're not getting out of it, so don't even try."

Blaine groans. Yes, fine, the biggest dance club in America is apparently in Omaha, Nebraska, and if he'd realized that early on, he might have pushed harder for Route 66. Maybe.

"Now up and at 'em, cowboy. You're taking me out for dinner, drinks and dancing tonight."

\---

It's not as bad as he might have feared. It's not that Blaine _hates_ clubs, he's just not as used to them as Kurt is, and he always feels like it shows. Kurt helps, though - he always seems so easy there, so comfortable, and it's hard to be still when Kurt is ordering him drinks and holding his hand and bobbing his head to the music. The night feels joyous, celebratory, and he smiles and wonders.

Two drinks in and Kurt is dragging him to the dance floor, laughing at the combination of his reluctance to push into the crowd and his hips' insistence that he needs to move.

He loops his arms around Kurt's neck and starts moving against him. "Can you believe we're here?"

"In a gay bar in Omaha? Not really, no."

"On a road trip. To our apartment. In San Francisco."

"Well, technically Palo Alto."

Blaine slides a hand into his hair and makes Kurt look at him. "Hey. I'm serious. It's happening. I kind of can't believe I'm not going to wake up tomorrow morning still in my bedroom in Evanston after some kind of caffeine hallucination."

Kurt raises a brow. "You won't. It's happening."

"I love you."

Kurt kisses him then, and when he pulls away he says, "You know what I can't believe? I can't believe I've finally got you back on a dance floor and you're using the opportunity to get sappy about moving in together."

Blaine smiles, shaking his head a little - not tonight, apparently. "Oh, I'm _so_ sorry. What's the order of business for tonight, then?"

"Reliving our glorious youth. Do you remember that night in Columbus?"

Blaine does - he remembers it well, remembers kneeling on a hard floor, remembers Kurt leading him into a room with just enough light for everybody there to see him brace himself against a wall while Kurt pounded into him.

"You hoping to fuck me in public again?"

"Oh god, no. That was so tacky - I'm over it. No, not that. But..."

"But there's something else."

"Mmm, more a different version of the same idea."

Kurt turns him then, turns him by the shoulders and then pulls him flush against his body. "Very carefully, look over at the tables next to the bar. There's a guy - generic red button-down, blonde hair done up a little too high."

Blaine makes eye contact, and he can't help it - his eyes dart away. "Yeah, I see him. He's looking at us."

"He's watching _you_. He has been since we came up here. He likes the look of you."

"How do you know he's not watching you?"

"He hasn't made eye contact with me."

It's automatic - he looks back and, yes, there it is, that little zing of attraction and _pull_ and once again he can't sustain the look.

"I don't like teasing. It seems cruel." The music is getting louder, the thump of the bass resonating through his feet, and he almost has to shout it for Kurt to hear.

"Look at him, Blaine. No really, _look at him_. Does he look unhappy?"

Blaine looks one more time, lets his eyes wander over his face, at the small, pleased smile there. It's too far, too dim to make out the color of his eyes, but Blaine bets they're blue, a clear summer sky. He's attractive, yes, but the point is that Kurt's right - he seems content to watch.

"No, he looks fine."

He can feel Kurt's smirk against the side of his face. "He's okay, I suppose. But yes, he does look pleased with his lot in life, just watching." Kurt breathes hot against his ear and slides his hand just under the hem of Blaine's t-shirt, stroking his index finger just above his waistband. "Want to make him happier?"

Blaine smiles down at the floor - Kurt and his ideas. He'll never complain, he _loves_ seeing where Kurt's imagination will take them next, but every time he wonders if this is the time he'll balk. Not this time, apparently, because this feels _glorious_.

He grinds back against Kurt in response, pushing his ass into Kurt's groin, and Kurt's hands tighten around his hips. "Yeah? Okay then, here we go."

Blaine looks down at the floor just a few feet in front of him while Kurt's hands skim over his chest, down firm and low over his belly, and he lets his eyes dart up just once to see if they're still being watched. They are; the man in red takes a long sip of his beer but his eyes are fixed on where Kurt's hand is thumbing at his nipple through his t-shirt. Blaine can feel his cock starting to press against his jeans and moves his hips into it, swinging them forward and back against Kurt.

"Look at him. He's watching you get groped on the dance floor, and he's over there all by himself. The least you can do is let him know you _like_ that he's watching."

Blaine lifts his head, waiting until the man can rip his eyes away from Kurt's hands so their eyes can meet again.

"That's right. In a little while I'll take you back to our hotel, and then I'll fuck you, and when I do I want you to think about him watching, about how hot it would make both of you for him to watch you take it. So get a good look."

He does, then, freed by Kurt's hands on his body and his breath in his ear to let himself play, just a little, to let himself seduce this man with his eyes and his body. He doesn't stop dancing - Kurt has set the tempo and the tone with his hips insistent against Blaine, and it starts feeling less like playing and more like long, public foreplay.

As the backing track for the next song picks up he brings his hands up from where they've been holding Kurt tight by his hips, and he grabs at Kurt's head, but he never stops staring at the man across the room. He watches his eyes wander down his body, lingering where the t-shirt pulls tight across his biceps.

"There you go," Kurt whispers in his ear, and he can feel Kurt's hand slide down over his jeans, cupping him and straightening him with one hand, holding his erection through his jeans. When Kurt starts pushing at the hem of his t-shirt, letting his hand slide across his belly, Blaine closes his eyes, lost to it for just a moment. It's just so _much_.

When he opens them again the man at the bar is standing. His eyes are hungry, questioning, and Blaine shakes his head at him gently just as Kurt shoves his t-shirt up enough to pinch at his nipple. The man nods, once, and then lets his eyes drift down Blaine's body. He imagines himself then, what he must look like, arms thrown up, his cock hard under Kurt's possessive hand, his t-shirt rucked up so that the dark hair trailing down to his jeans is on display. His belly is flat, and his chest is toned, and he's never loved his own body as much as he does right then when Kurt's hands and a stranger's eyes are all over it.

Kurt inhales sharply behind him, and he can feel Kurt's dick pressing against his ass when he grinds against him again. Blaine flushes hot, desperate for it, and he takes one hand out of Kurt's hair and slides it down his own body in one long tease, never looking away, until he can press his palm against the back of Kurt's hand, pressing tighter, cupping himself more, moving Kurt's hands against his jeans to give him the beginning of what would be a spectacular handjob.

He keeps moving and he _thinks_ about it - this man pressing himself against Blaine's front, what it would be like to have both of them hard and grinding against him. He's a little taller than both of them, and it would feel good, so _good_ to have both of them all over him, around him. He thinks about fucking into that man's mouth while Kurt fucks him and it's like all the dirtiest porn he's ever enjoyed - implausible, gloriously so, and so fucking hot but nothing at all like what he really _wants_ , not now, not tonight.

So he nods, one last time, and then he turns back to Kurt, whose hands slide around his body to clutch at his ass.

He leans forward, sucking a dirty wet kiss onto Kurt's neck, and then he says, "Take me home."

\---

That night he rides Kurt, pushes him down to the bed and slicks himself and then sinks onto Kurt's dick with a groan. Kurt's hands are all over him, pinching at his nipples and pulling at his cock, and he's _talking_. "God, _look at you_. He wanted you so much, and he never even knew the _half_ of it. I wish you could see yourself like I do."

And the thing is, that night, he really does.

After they're done, after Kurt has cleaned them up, after they're wrapped around each other in bed, he whispers, "Thank you for taking me dancing," into Kurt's ear.

Kurt is a marvel, really, because he can smirk even when he's half-asleep, and he just says, "Anytime."


	6. (Day 4) Omaha, Nebraska to Alliance, Nebraska - 393 miles

They're lazy the next morning, neither of them eager to crawl out of bed and get moving. Blaine skips shaving again and talks Kurt into doing the same so he can stay in the shower with him for just a little bit longer. It's after 10 before they're finally on the road. Their destination for today is a weird one, but at least it's further west.

They drive for hours across midwestern farmland, lush and green in the peak of its growing season. They share the road with farm vehicles and tractor trailers, and this isn't the longest drive of the trip - that will come tomorrow - but they're moving into unknown territory. They stop for bottled water and corn fritters wrapped in waxed paper and paper towels, and then they stop again a few miles down the road so they can buy a pint of strawberries from a farm stand. Kurt feeds them to Blaine as he drives, mostly so that he can have an opportunity to slide close and kiss his neck, so that Blaine can tease at his fingertips with his tongue and pretend that it's about the berries.

An hour later Kurt is appalled and then hysterical with laughter when Blaine finally pulls over to the side of the road, but he doesn't miss the opportunity to snap a picture of his back while Blaine pees into the grass along the shoulder, and then another as he walks shamefaced back to the car. "Blaine Warbler, going native," he says, passing over a Handi-Wipe as Blaine slips back into the car, and Blaine just rolls his eyes and pulls him into a prickly kiss that lasts for long minutes and tastes of strawberries. The back of Blaine's neck is warm from the sun, and Kurt curls his fingers there, stroking.

It's another two hours (and a bathroom break for Kurt, who had been right - there was a town another twenty minutes down the road) before they pull into a crushed stone parking lot and clamber out of the car, stretching their legs and glad to be out in the open. The afternoon is beginning to wane, and a breeze is picking up as the sun sinks lower in the sky.

When Kurt had talked to his dad about this trip he'd mentioned the lack of things to do and see on the way, and the first thing his dad had mentioned was [Carhenge](http://www.carhenge.com/). Kurt had laughed it off the first time his dad brought it up, and then again the second, but by the third time his dad had said, "That has to be something," he'd promised himself that he would make it happen.

Kurt circles the large sculpture in the middle as he photographs it, framing his shots for perspective and to cut out all the other visitors so that the art looks like it should - alone, iconic, a statement in the middle of a barren wasteland.

It's strange being here; sometimes when he was living in Manhattan he thought about home and even if this is nothing how it looks, this is how it _felt_. Western Ohio has more trees than he can see here, and there's more shape to the terrain there; this part of Nebraska really is nothing but flat farmland, the very definition of fly-over country. Somehow, Kurt realizes, he's become one of those people who sees all the spaces in between as indistinguishable from each other, and he pangs with guilt.

He can see his dad here, can imagine him shoving his hat back on his head and saying, "Well will you look at that." Or maybe he would see it all as a waste, thinking of the parts that won't be used, the rust that will have to be kept at bay. His dad has tried to understand art, first for him and his mom and later for Carole. He gamely goes along to museums and squints at the paintings, but modern art has always eluded him, and the vibe here is a curious mix of postmodern tongue-in-cheek with the best of the American folk tradition. It's kind of like him and his dad, actually.

This place is officially in the ass end of nowhere, on the way to just more nowhere, except for how it's also a pretty good stopping point between one home and another.

Four weeks ago, Blaine sent him a text message with the words, "Welcome back to Ohio," and he smiled when he got it, just like he always does when he's come back home and Blaine has reminded him of everything that place has meant to them. There had been a time when he'd resented that a little, resented the way Blaine was always going to be a connection to a place he couldn't wait to leave.

He looks over at Blaine, who's wearing his sunglasses and staring across the grass and into the distance. He snaps a few photos of him with the fields and the sky behind him. Two days of growth are darkening his jaw but the light makes his hair shine a little more auburn than it really is. His face is peaceful, thoughtful, and he's fiddling with something in his pocket. Kurt has never loved him quite so fiercely.

There's a lull as the sun finally starts to fall away and people wander out and Blaine looks at him, but Kurt says, "Look at what the shadows are doing. A little longer?" and it's only a _little_ because he doesn't want to get back in the car yet. They stay until it's almost dark, until most of the daytime rush has passed and they're alone with 80 tons of American steel and the wind blowing through the tall grass.

They're quiet in the car; the hush has settled over and into them and when they smile at each other at the reception desk at the simple chain hotel, Blaine's eyes are tired but happy. 

After they settle into their room, Kurt leads Blaine into the shower and touches him everywhere, fills up his hands and his eyes with the shapes of him. Blaine cups his hands around his neck and rubs his thumbs up his jawline, chin to ear, the drag of whisker a new addition to everything he loves about Blaine's hands on his face. And later when they're on the bed and Blaine is rocking into him, long and slow and so so sweet, Kurt whispers "love you, _love you_ " and locks their eyes and doesn't look away.


	7. (Day 4) Alliance, Nebraska to Salt Lake City, Utah – 586 miles

When Blaine wakes Kurt is still in bed, lying next to him and staring up at the ceiling.

"Hey. You're still here."

Kurt shifts his legs a little and props one arm behind his head, but continues to stare straight up. "There was nowhere to _go_. I got up, wandered into the parking lot, cleaned out the car, and then just came back to bed."

"I should never take you this far from a Starbucks ever again, should I?"

"I am _not_ cut out for country living." Kurt's voice is bitter, scornful.

Blaine snorts and scoots closer, tucking one arm under his head so he can look a little down at him. Kurt's stripped back down to his underwear, at least, but he's already showered and shaved and his body is taut, wide awake and filled with coiled energy, and just the _feel_ of it pulls Blaine a little out of his slumber and leaves him uneasy.

"You okay? Yesterday you seemed so relaxed, and today you're all wound up again."

Kurt's quiet for a moment. "Yesterday was wonderful. It felt like vacation, like we were in a play or a film, something... outside of time. Today's just another day to be locked up in the car, completely useless in the middle of a big, wide, hostile nowhere."

"I thought you liked the new car," Blaine says automatically.

Kurt swats him with the back of his hand. "Don't be like that - it's not about the _car_ , Blaine."

Blaine thinks about it, and then he kisses him on the cheek. "Feeling restless?"

"Of course," and it's not fair that Kurt is so cute when he's disgruntled, so he kisses him again. "And stop trying to charm me out of it."

"Hey." He pauses and waits for eye contact, and when Kurt continues staring at the ceiling he says, "Hey, look at me."

Kurt does, his brow stormy. His eyes, though, are still the same beautiful color they always are, and Blaine whispers, "Just be here with me. Okay? I know it sucks, I know this is not your kind of place. God knows you're ready to get into the new apartment and fix it." Kurt quirks a brow. "But I've been waiting for this for a long time, and so have you, so just... try to relax, okay? And be here. With _me_."

Kurt just scowls. "I told you to stop being charming."

Blaine cradles his cheek, strokes his thumb across it. "Is it working?"

Kurt just rolls his eyes. "I _knew_ you would cheat with the hand thing once I told you."

"You know me well," Blaine answers with a grin.

Kurt's eyes soften, just a little, and that's it, he's got him, so he goes up to his elbow and kisses him again and again, small sweet kisses across his face until he can feel the tension in Kurt's face shift and change, until he can feel Kurt's smile beneath his own.

He pulls away just far enough to whisper, "Good morning," and Kurt's hand is a little cool as it slides over his shoulder and into his hair. 

"Shut up," Kurt says against his mouth. "I've been waiting for you to wake up for _forever_. Also, you're shaving this morning," and Blaine grins again into the next kiss.

\---

Kurt runs down to the lobby again while Blaine is in the shower, bringing bananas and "bagels" (Kurt uses his fingers for the scare quotes; Blaine just squeezes out another packet of cream cheese) and flimsy cups of orange juice from concentrate, and by the time they're heading out Kurt has rinsed their travel mugs and refilled them from coffee machine. 

In the car, Blaine turns in the drivers' seat and digs through his old backpack, pulling out a skinny paperback and handing it to Kurt. "You have three hours. Read to me?"

"All of it?"

"You said you were bored. And it's thematic."

Kurt raises his brow, but opens the book anyway, and that's how Blaine passes the drive to Laramie, Wyoming: watching the plains flirt with the foothills and listening to Kurt read the entirety of "The Laramie Project".

Kurt's voice swings high and low for most of the reading, hushed but expressive, and he breaks character only once, after an early speech by a gay university administrator:

> When I came here, I knew it was going to be hard as a gay man. But I kept telling myself: People should live where they want to live. And there would be times I would go down to Denver and I would go to gay bars and, um, people would ask where I was from and I'd say, "Laramie, Wyoming." And I met so many men down there from Wyoming. So many gay men who grew up here, and they're like: "This is not a place where I can live, how can you live there, I had to get out, grrr, grr, grrr." But every once in a while there would be a guy, "Oh gosh, I miss Laramie. I mean I really love it there, that's where I want to live." And they get this starry-eyed look and I'm like: if that's where you want to live, do it. I mean, imagine if more gay people stayed in small towns. But it's easier said than done of course.

Kurt pauses, and when he continues, his voice his voice drops out of narration and into commentary: "This reminds me of Rachel's dads."

"Yeah?"

"They _love_ Lima, strangely enough. One of them is _still_ on the city council, for god's sake."

Blaine's memories of them are fuzzy - he'd only met them a few times, and the first time had been when he'd picked Rachel up for their date and he'd been so nervous, already _so_ unsure and feeling like such a fraud, that all he has left are hazy impressions. It's not something he's thought about in a long time, and there's a reason for that.

Even so, Blaine presses on, saying, "Funny that they weren't around more, then. At school, I mean. You'd think that with everything that went on...."

"Well, you know Rachel. It's hard to know how much they actually knew - I'm sure that most of what they heard about school was all about _her_."

"Still. That guy's whole point is that if gay people stay in small towns, they'll be able to fight battles there, hearts and minds, all that." 

"Mmmm. Picking their battles, maybe." Kurt pauses for a second, and then says, "Not everybody is _you_ \- we don't all need to fight every fight."

Blaine darts a look at him, at Kurt's raised brow, before he forces himself to focus on the road in front of them. "Not _every_ fight. Just the really important ones."

From the corner of his eye he sees Kurt shrug. "That's what I mean. I'm sure, as Rachel's dads, funding the new community theatre was the more important move." Kurt's voice is even - he's trying to be fair, even if he doesn't believe anything he's saying.

Blaine's hands tighten around the steering wheel. It's been so long since he's run from a fight; now he prefers running straight into them, and he's been working since high school to develop tools better than fists. Sometimes, though, it's like he's back at that stupid Sadie Hawkins Dance all over again, wishing he'd cared more when his dad was trying to teach him how to throw a punch.

"Anyway," Kurt says, and he keeps reading.

In the very next line the playwright makes a joke about staying at a Best Western, and Blaine tries to smile.

\---

They eat sandwiches from the student union on a bench outside the arts building at the University of Wyoming, and Blaine can't take his eyes off the commemorative plaque there. The bench still looks new, and he wonders what was there when Matthew Shepard was a student.

"I can't believe it's just a bench."

Kurt's quietly eating fruit out of a plastic container, so Blaine goes on. He's trying not to make a scene and he knows his voice is coming out in a hiss, but a chicken salad sandwich sits dry and heavy on his leg, and he's absolutely furious. 

"This kid gets victimized, beaten to death, kickstarts an entire national conversation about LGBT rights and young people, and the university where he was a student, the town where he was killed, puts a bench on the campus, just like all the other goddamn dedicated benches for rich alumni."

Kurt's looking at him now, his head tilted to the side.

"I think I'm not the only person this trip is getting to." Kurt lays a hand on his knee, and says in a quiet voice. "I think you're overpersonalizing."

"I'm sure I am." Blaine watches the students passing them by; nobody's looking at them, nobody cares. His boyfriend is physically comforting him while they sit on a bench dedicated to the kid who was beaten to death, _maybe_ for coming on to the wrong person at the wrong time. (Maybe. Blaine _hates_ that.)

"I get it. You don't even have to believe me, you were there - I _get_ it. But you're scaring me a little bit right now. I don't want you to be angry all the time, and taking it this personally is a really bad habit for a civil rights attorney."

Blaine looks at him then, looks at the open concern on Kurt's soft face, the way his eyes draw together and his mouth turns down a little. 

"It's an interesting quality, you know. It makes you passionate and fiery and all kinds of other things that I love." Kurt gives him a small smile. "But... just think about it. I know it's what you want, but please don't get...." Kurt drifts off, unable to articulate everything that he's afraid of just at that moment. "Just. Be here. With me."

He looks at Kurt then, at his partner, and is swamped with guilt. From the moment they'd mapped out their trip and looked at where I-80 would take them, he's been thinking of this visit. A degree in history has given him perspective and appreciation for how ideas change, and he'd been unable to resist coming here to this town where such a horrible thing had happened but such a precious thing had _started_. He's passionate about young people; his experiences and Kurt's have shaped his life, given his intellect direction and drive, and this is a pilgrimage that he probably had to make. But this trip is about starting something new with Kurt, moving away from all of their vulnerability to a new position of strength, and he suddenly feels like he's badly misstepped.

He puts his hand over Kurt's, urging him closer. "I'm here. I'm right here."

"And so am I," Kurt says. "Finish your sandwich, and let's get the hell out of this town."

\---

As they near the car, Kurt holds out his hand and says, "Keys," and Blaine passes them over. Kurt heads to the passenger side, though, and when Blaine turns to ask what he's doing, Kurt just pushes him against the car and kisses him fiercely, _passionately_. The car's been sitting in the sun all afternoon and it burns a line across his back. 

Kurt's hand slides firmly into his hair and he breaks the kiss sharply, holding Blaine's head to his own and speaking low and urgent. "Fuck them, do you hear me? I mean it, Blaine, just _fuck_ it. This is not 1990-whenever, and this is not a place we ever need to be again, and you can't save everybody and I can't save you."

"You do, though," Blaine says automatically, his mind reeling.

"And I will. But don't _make_ me. Please. Find a way to make it better for other people without it always being about _you_ , or about _me_ , or about what happened. I want to live with _you_ ; I don't want to live the rest of my life with _that_."

Suddenly Blaine wants to cry, wants to curl into Kurt and sob like he hasn't for... god, for _years_. Instead he pulls Kurt into another kiss, leaning against the car and taking his weight until the heat of the doorjamb is uncomfortable enough to be painful.

"Okay," he whispers against Kurt's mouth. "Okay. I hear you. I understand, I do."

"Yeah?" Kurt's hold on his head is gentling, his fingers beginning to stroke and smooth instead of grip.

Blaine nods. "Yeah." He breathes against Kurt's mouth, feeling him there, the breath and the warmth of him in the sunlight. "I'm sorry."

Kurt kisses him one last time, then pulls away with a sad smile. "Don't be; you're completely justified. I love that it affects you so much. I just hate it, too. Now." Kurt takes a deep breath, and then his smile fades into a smirk. "We're going to get out of here, and I won't be a snobby brat and you won't be so neurotic and we will drive to Salt Lake Fucking City, Utah, and this day will get _so_ much better, because I have the perfect soundtrack picked out."

Blaine sits in the passenger seat and curls his hands into loose fists on his thighs, and it's not until he hears the first doorbell chime out in the cast recording of "The Book of Mormon" that he breathes easier, leans back against his seat and turns to look at Kurt. Ten minutes later they're speeding west down I-80 and singing "Hasa Diga Eebowai" at the top of their lungs, bent for leather and Salt Lake Fucking City, and his eyes are watching the wide Wyoming skies and the foothills of the Rockies fly by behind Kurt's proud profile. 

\---

Their stop in Laramie puts them a little late getting into Salt Lake Fucking City, which is honestly just as well; Kurt already has trouble not singing out "I am a Mormon" under his breath on most days of the week, and after listening to the entire soundtrack three times on repeat, Blaine's not much better off, and they could probably do with less contact with actual real life Mormons. The day's been long, emotionally draining, and the scenery is just... it's exhausting just _looking_ at it, because you can only have your breath stolen out of your body so many times in one day before it's overwhelming, too much to see and process and understand. They're tired, dragging, and by the time they clear the last mountain pass Blaine feels like he might as well be running up the hill and dragging the damn car behind him.

"Do you want to go out for dinner?" Blaine asks as they are driving down into the bowl of the city. The sun is setting behind the lake, and the valley is washed out in a glare of white and orange. Kurt's wearing sunglasses and has the visor flipped down and Blaine can _still_ see the lines at the corners of his eyes where he's squinting against the sun.

Kurt winces. "Can we not? I'm sorry, I'm just so tired, I can't deal with people right now. I think I just want to be alone."

Blaine's quiet for a minute, and Kurt risks taking his eyes off the road to glance over at him. When he continues he sounds unsure. "I mean, I guess we _can_ go out for dinner if you want. Are you... did you have something planned?"

Blaine stares out the window and says, "No. I mean, no, I don't care, we can just pick something up. I just... do you want to go out for coffee or something?"

Kurt rolls his eyes, obviously already out of patience. "God, Blaine. I want to drive through somewhere and get something really disgusting for dinner and then I want to go to our hotel and collapse on the bed and not move until tomorrow. Okay?"

Blaine's starting to get both pissed and confused and those two feelings are stuck in a feedback loop that he can't quite escape, and so after a minute of tense silence he finally just asks. "Look, when you said you wanted to be alone, did you mean you wanted some time without me?"

Kurt freezes, then quirks the side of his mouth. "Oh. No, actually. I mean I want some time _with_ you. And nobody else. I just want to lie next to you on a bed and not move and not talk. For, like, _hours_."

"Oh god, that sounds so perfect right now," Blaine groans, and Kurt huffs out a little laughter. 

"Can we watch TV? Something really mindless - housewives or truckers or something."

Blaine reaches for his hand. "Fuck, I _love_ you."

Kurt glances at him once the car's dipped low enough into the valley that the reflection of the water is no longer directly in his eyes, and as he glances over his shoulder as he prepares to change lanes he says, "And they said that traveling together would kill the romance."

\---

An hour later Blaine stumbles off the bed to throw away the paper trays their food came in while Kurt peels back the bedding to a single top-sheet and a soft blanket. They had both stripped off their pants as soon as they walked into the room, and Kurt didn't say a word about the bedding as they sat cross-legged on the bed and silently ate hamburgers and french fries from the first In-N-Out they'd encountered in their trip. Blaine washes his hands and face and brushes his teeth while he's in the bathroom throwing the rest of dinner away, and when he comes back out Kurt has taken off his shirt and is lying spread-eagled on top of the bed, eyes half-closed. Blaine brushes his hair back and nudges him, and Kurt clambers off to the bathroom while Blaine throws his shirt on the floor and climbs into bed, propping up pillows and stretching for the remote.

Kurt comes back and settles in against him with a sigh, and they have twenty solid minutes of the ridiculous dramas of rich women before Kurt mutes the tv and says into his shoulder. "So today was kind of a disaster, wasn't it?"

Blaine smiles over his head and says, "I thought we weren't talking tonight."

Kurt elbows him. "I'm done processing on my own. Do you have something you want to add, or should I just make up my own version of what happened?"

Blaine groans. "I was there - I'm pretty clear on what happened."

"And?" Kurt prompts.

Blaine blows out a heavy breath. "And... I'm sorry? I don't want to be angry all the time either, you know. I mean, I don't think I am."

"No. You're not." Kurt's quiet for a moment before he says, "It's possible I overreaccted. Maybe. I'm really not sure anymore."

"Also, I'm tired. And that drive _sucked_." Kurt nods against his shoulder. "And thank you for coming with me today. I know you hated it, but I'm glad you were there."

"It's not that I don't feel it, you know. I do. I just... it's not my story, Blaine. It's not yours, either."

"It's somebody's, though."

"That's what you're for. Give you a few years and there'll be fewer somebodies."

Blaine heart sings, but he just breathes out into Kurt's hair. " _Thank you_."

"Thank you for taking me with you. I never would have gone on my own and it was... well. _Moving_."

"Yeah."

Long minutes pass, and Kurt says, "I love you. So much, Blaine. You're brave and you're strong and you're... you're my partner. We'll do this together, we'll figure it out, because that's what we do."

That feeling is back, that urge to lose himself in Kurt and just weep. This time, though, they're there _together_ , and they've got a bed that's theirs for the night, and he just lets himself fall. He slides down until it's his head on Kurt's chest, and Kurt wraps his arms around him, and he just lies there, quiet and still, and listens to Kurt's heartbeat. He slides his hand over Kurt's chest, traces his finger around his nipple and glides up to slide along his collarbone, and he turns his head to press a kiss to the skin just over Kurt's heart and whispers "thank you", closing his eyes when Kurt's hand rests on his neck.


	8. (Day 5) Salt Lake City to Reno, Nevada - 519 miles

Kurt comes to slowly. They'd fallen asleep with the television on, and sometime around 3 am he'd woken up and turned it off, turned off the bathroom light, urged Blaine under the covers and gone back to bed. Sleep is still resting heavy on him, like a blanket wrapped around his legs that he doesn't even really want to kick off, and... oh god.

Warm, slick, _tight_ around his cock, and _that's_ where Blaine is.

He opens his eyes, squeezing them closed again against the light, and they had been so out of it last night that they'd forgotten to pull the drapes. He shifts his legs reflexively so that fingers can slide slick and press between his legs, a wet slide over his hole, and he gasps out loud. Blaine pauses and Kurt's hands fly down to press at his head, still covered in a soft cotton sheet, and just for a moment Kurt is glad he sprung for the better hotel for last night because _god_ good linens make such a difference. He can lie here in this bed, propped on a mountain of pillows and awash in a sea of high thread count, and get his dick sucked _all morning_. 

Blaine feels like he wants to; he's going slow, licking long and soft and warm over his balls, pulling them into his mouth to suckle and lap at them. His hands press against the inside of Kurt's thighs, gentle but insistent, and Kurt spreads a bit more and rolls his hips so Blaine can tongue down his perineum in a firm, graceful slide. Fingers pry his cheeks apart and Blaine's tongue, strong and wet, teases over his hole, firm little licks that Kurt wants to go on _forever_ , but the angle's wrong and he can't hold it, not this morning. He drops his ass and Blaine mouths back up, taking his time and with the hint of teeth up his shaft because god, oh god, Blaine's taking his time but he's _hungry_ for it, Kurt can feel it in every lazy stroke of his fingers and the lingering slide of his tongue and, finally, in the way Blaine moans low in his throat when he takes the head of Kurt's dick in his mouth and sucks hard around it.

He pushes the sheet back, unearthing Blaine. He looks like sex in the light of the morning after - messy dark hair and strong shoulders against a backdrop of white sheets, eyes closed and face relaxed, so peaceful with his mouth full of Kurt - and he can't help it, he pushes up with a groan. 

Blaine's eyes snap open.

And that's it, really - they're off, and Kurt was a fool if he'd thought this was going to go on for a while. Blaine's eyes are burning, desperate for it, and his lashes sweep heavily down as he blinks at Kurt while he sucks at his cock. He's not even using his hands, not really - he's holding Kurt's legs open and bent at the knee with merciless fingers and his thumbs are stroking down his perineum in rhythm, bobbing up and down on his cock and sucking at it, his cheeks hollowing. Kurt can hear himself breathing harder, faster, and the obscene wet sucking noise of Blaine's mouth as his lips slip tight over his dick. The rhythm of his thumbs doesn't falter as he pulls back and swirls his tongue over the tip, probing at Kurt's slit, and then slides down, tighter even than before, in one long slide as Kurt comes, helpless and roaring and flailing a little, into his mouth.

When Kurt can see again he stares down at him, at his pink tongue sliding gentle and careful over the crown of his dick, and he shivers. He uses one hand to bunch the pillow firmer under his neck, and his voice comes out croaky, hoarse with sleep, when he says, "Fuck my mouth. Now."

Blaine scrambles up, shaky on his knees until he can rest his ass across Kurt's chest, and he's already straining up to try to mouth at Blaine's dick. There's a smear of a gloss across the red tip, wet and shining, and he wants it, wants that taste so fucking bad, but Blaine grabs his head and holds him back, easing him back onto the pillow. He leaves his mouth open, waiting, and when Blaine pushes forward they groan together, disharmonious and desperate. Blaine helps him, though, cradles his neck in his strong fingers and presses across his cheeks with his thumbs while he pumps in and out of his mouth, his ass bumping up against Kurt's chest.

"God, your mouth," Blaine groans. "Suck me, Kurt. Fuck, yeah, like that," and Kurt lets his eyes drop to watch those words fall out of Blaine's pretty red lips. He grabs Blaine's hips, digging his fingers into the sides of his ass, pushing and pulling, and Blaine stares down at him, his eyes hot and drifting down over and over to watch the slide of his dick. "God, yeah. Gonna fuck you forever, keep you, _keep_ you," and then it all falls apart - Blaine's hips start to thrash and Kurt almost chokes but he keeps sucking, he wants all of it, wants _everything_ and then he wants to put him back together just so he can take him apart again. Blaine comes hot and bitter in a flood in his mouth, and the angle's wrong for swallowing right away so he lets it pool on his tongue, filling him up until he feels a trickle down his chin.

Blaine drops Kurt's head, falls away and to the side, and Kurt drops back onto his pillow and swallows. His hand is coming up, automatic and reflexive, to wipe at his mouth but Blaine grabs it, grabs him and pulls so he can he lick lazy at his mouth, his chin, kissing him so sweet but so _filthy_ , the last of Blaine's come strong over the taste of morning in their mouths.

They finally collapse together, sideways and panting, and Blaine's hand finds his as he breathes out, "Jesus _Christ_ ," and Kurt closes his eyes and smiles, smug and dirty. Oh, Salt Lake City. You really had this coming.

\---

Clearing the Rockies seems to have cleared something out in them, too - suddenly they're just another couple of days of travel and a long downhill slide away from the rest of their lives. Kurt watches Blaine as they drive, smiles back when Blaine grins at him as they cross into Nevada, and looks forward at the desert as he watches and wonders.

He had known that Laramie would be intense, but he hadn't known exactly how it would be, hadn't guessed that one minute Blaine would be easy, relaxed, and then the next right back where they had been in high school, besieged and fearful and furious, so damned angry at a world that wouldn't let him in. They've talked about their future - especially these last six months, when all either of them had been able to think about was After, like that was the goal itself, like finishing school meant something besides starting something new. Kurt's last weeks in New York passed in a blur of finals and final nights out and packing and planning, and it wasn't until he was back in Ohio that he'd realized that it was really _over_ , just one more chapter of his life to put behind him. Home is such a strange concept right now, and all he knows is that at the moment it has something to do with this car and their music playing on the stereo, the line drawings of their new apartment sitting on his lap, and the man sitting next to him. 

He wants so many things, but most of them begin here, and when he thinks about yesterday and the day before and everything that's happened since they left Ohio this last time he struggles to slot it into place, to make sense of it as part of their story. He's known since their early years of college that what they have is something special, something that comes around once in a lifetime, and if that had made it easier to get through all of the everyday bullshit at school, now it scares him a little. This drive is the beginning of all the rest, and with the benefit of near-retrospect the drive feels like the terrain they've been crossing - wide open, whatever they chose to make of it and filled with moments of both desperate peril and surprising sweetness. The part of him that is less artistic director and more dramaturg, the part that will always be introspective and thoughtful and obsessed with story, marvels at how far they've come and how much more is left. This is the problem with seeing your life as a musical, he muses as he stares out the window - the act structure is _completely_ fucked up, and it's hard to know where to put the big numbers.

And then, a few hours after lunch, Blaine surprises him again.

\---

They've gotten an early start on the day and have been steadily pressing west, so when Blaine pulls off of I-80 into a town with the quaint (and, it has to be noted, utterly inappropriate) name of "Lovelock", he assumes he needs gas, a bottle of water, or just to stretch his legs.

"Where are we going?" he asks when Blaine passes the gas stations near the exit ramp and heads instead to the center of town, down a long and unfortunate drag of Cowtown USA called, predictably enough, Main Street.

Blaine's smile is playful when he stares straight ahead and says, "You'll see."

They pull into the parking lot of the most depressing Safeway in existence and Blaine puts a hand on his back and urges him across the road to a surprisingly pretty park, completely out of place here. A large stone building dominates one end, but Blaine takes his hand and pulls him toward the center of the circle, where Kurt can see large green pylons, heavy chains linking them together.

"Where _are_ we?"

Blaine smiles at him, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. "Lovelock, Nevada. Lovelocking capital of the world, they say."

Kurt raises a brow at him, but when they reach the pylons Kurt can see the hundreds of locks dangling from the chains, most of them heart-shaped and engraved, in curly, looping script, with the word "Lovelock!" It's ridiculous, and tacky, and the signs everywhere about "locking your love!" suddenly make a whole lot more sense.

"Recognize this?"

Dangling from Blaine's index finger is the combination lock that Blaine had used on his locker at McKinley; it's unmistakable, and he remembers an afternoon hitting every Target, WalMart and independent hardware store in town looking for the purple one in the weeks before their senior year. It had seemed so important at the time. 

"Where on earth did you find _that_?"

"My desk drawer, in my parents' house. I had to turn the whole damn thing out, but there it was."

It's effortlessly affectionate, so ridiculous, and so perfectly Blaine. He looks at him and shakes his head. "You have lost your mind."

"Maybe," Blaine quips back, "but it was long enough ago that it hardly seems like worrying about it now."

They smile at each other, and finally Kurt just says, "So do it, then, if you must."

Blaine hands him the lock. "Let's see how you do - do you remember the combination?"

Kurt lifts a brow, and then his fingers go to work. It's strange, the things that muscle memory will bring back to you. He hands the lock back to Blaine, who snags the swinging hasp with one finger. 

"Impressive. Okay, so you've unlocked it, made your way in - " Blaine claps one hand over his heart and Kurt rolls his eyes. Blaine grins and, in one motion, slides the lock onto the chain and snaps it closed. 

After it's done they both watch the lock swinging off the big links of the chain, and then Blaine looks up at him and Kurt can't keep the smile off his face. "In your head, what was supposed to happen then?"

"I'm... not sure? I'm pretty sure there was music, though." Blaine's still grinning, rubbing one hand over the back of his head.

"And doves," Kurt adds.

"Shitting glitter," they say together.

Blaine's smile is sweet, fond, and when he gently pushes at Kurt's shoulder, Kurt laughs and grabs at his hand, pulling him back to sit with him on a bench. Blaine glances at him, a bit shy, and then he stares into the trees.

"It's our last full day on the road. Tomorrow night we'll be in our apartment."

"Thank _god_."

"It wasn't _all_ bad," Blaine says.

"Not at all. I don't want to do it again anytime soon, but it had some highlights." Kurt thinks about the romance of Davenport, the playful dirtiness of Omaha and Salt Lake City, and the overwhelming peace of Carhenge, and smiles at how perfectly ridiculous they are together. 

"Yeah. I'm glad we did it this way."

"Yeah."

Blaine is quiet for a long time, watching the squirrels in the park. He squeezes Kurt's hand a little tighter, then lifts it and presses a kiss to the back.

Kurt turns his head to look at him, and Blaine is looking back at him. He opens his mouth to say something but then hesitates, and the moment lingers so long that Kurt finally says, "What?"

"Reno has a lot of wedding chapels."

"Mmm, what was your first clue?" he quips in reference to the hundreds of signs they've passed today. It comes out light, playful, but his heart pounds as he turns back to the park.

"And Nevada recognizes domestic partnerships."

"It's alarming that you know that."

"Part of my job description." Blaine's voice is tight, trying to play it off as a joke, and Kurt hurts for him.

"I guess so."

"We could take an extra day...."

He glances at him. "I'm not marrying you in Reno, Blaine."

Blaine sighs and looks down at their hands. "I think I knew that."

Kurt thinks for a few seconds before he says, "When I marry you, I want it to be... well, not big. I don't think I need more than the most important people there. But I do want it to be beautiful, and I don't want it to feel like something we did on a whim."

Blaine nods. "Because it's not."

"After all this? Absolutely not."

"Can it be soon?"

Kurt turns toward him. "How soon?" 

Blaine's face is open, almost pleading. "This year?"

"Next summer, maybe?" Kurt counters.

"Why?"

"Well. I think we should live together for a year first. It's been a long time since we were together all the time." Blaine shifts besides him, turning toward him and poised to interrupt. "Shhh, relax, I'm not worried. It's just smart, I think, to get used to each other again. I talked to my dad a few weeks ago about his and Carole's estate and it's just - it gets messy. Why are you suddenly in a hurry to make it formal?"

Blaine is quiet for a while, and when he speaks his voice is soft. "It's not sudden. I've been ready since we talked about it at my birthday. I want to marry you, as soon as I can, and then I want to _stay_ married to you for as long as you'll let me."

" _Blaine!_ " His earnestness has always been a gift, from the very first time Blaine told him that he loved him, but sometimes it still takes his breath away.

"I love you, Kurt - I just love you. I've been in love with you for _such_ a long time, and I still am. We've been so disciplined, and so much about this has had to be... controlled. Careful. I want _everything_ from you, and I'm tired of being smart and restrained and practical about it."

Kurt looks at him, stares into his eyes and thinks about it, thinks about saying "yes, never mind, yes, let's go!" and jumping in the car to go... well, do paperwork, essentially. Because the fact of it is, that's what a wedding _is_ \- it's cotton candy romance wrapped around a paperwork core. The only thing that makes it worth doing is the commitment underneath it, and if you don't have time to make sure you're celebrating that properly, then as much as he appreciates cotton candy romance and a good gesture, there's really no point. He wants to say all this to Blaine and he will, later; he's sure this isn't the last time they'll be talking about this in the coming months, but instead he just tilts his head and says, "Next summer, then. You'll have time off from school, and we should know a little better what I'm doing."

Blaine hums in agreement. "Makes sense. In San Francisco?"

"Probably - it'll be easiest. But I want to have a party - well, a reception, really - at home." He waits a minute, and then clarifies. "In Lima, I mean."

"Yeah." They're quiet for a minute, and Kurt stares at the chains, at all the locks hanging there, and thinks about courthouses and clothes and friends, just a handful of their closest people, the ones who've kept them sane and something like steady. He tries to remember the footage from City Hall in San Francisco from so many years ago, all those happy couples lined up around the block, but in his head it's the courthouse back in Lima - smaller, less grand, but so familiar. It's impossible to imagine, all of it except for him and Blaine, holding hands and saying simple words surrounded by familiar faces. "So around this time next year, we'll be doing this all over again, only this time we'll be coming back from our wedding reception."

"I think so. Only next time we're flying," Blaine says.

Kurt winces, but on balance, between the two options: "Oh _god_ yes."

Blaine grins at him, then looks down at their hands. He runs his fingers over the ring that's been on Kurt's right hand since Blaine put it there. "Soon. I... god, Kurt. I really can't stand to wait any longer."

"Just out of curiosity, where's yours? I did notice you weren't wearing it."

Blaine smiles at him, then goes up on one hip to fish it out of his pants pocket. He lets go of Kurt's hand and holds it in his palm between them. "I wanted to wait – you never did put it on me properly."

"That's because that wasn't a proposal; that was an attempt to talk my insane boyfriend off a ledge."

"Mmm, that's true. As I recall, it took my incredible romantic skills to make it a real proposal."

Kurt raises a brow. "I see."

"I'm feeling generous this afternoon, though – I had a _very_ good morning." He winks, and Kurt grins back. "Want a do-over?"

"Here?"

Blaine shrugs. "Last time you had a do-over there were trees involved; very intimately, as I recall. I believe your words were, 'Oh, fuck it', though. Not very romantic."

"I don't remember any complaints. And you expect better this time?"

"Well. Expect?" He grins at Kurt, and Kurt takes the ring and gives his shoulder a nudge with his own. "But hope springs eternal."

Kurt looks around the park then. It's quiet, just one old woman walking her dogs across the circle, and she's completely absorbed in watching the dogs do their unsavory business against a tree.

So to hell with it, then.

He stands quickly, and then turns to drop to one knee in front of Blaine. He feels silly, unarmored and on display in this position he's never expected to be in, but then he looks up at Blaine's face, that dear face that's smiling down at him gently, sweetly, with a look that's so familiar and that he'll never get tired of. And maybe that's the point to this gesture that's so unmistakable, to just be clear about intent, to let the world _see_ , and god knows he's never been good at hiding.

"Blaine Anderson, here in Lovelock, Nevada, of all godforsaken places, I have a proposal for you." Blaine grins, and Kurt just goes for it. "Be with me. _Keep_ being with me, for the rest of our lives. I'm still in love with you, so please. Marry me."

Blaine's smile is radiant. "You stole my line."

"It's a good line, and it's not my fault you got greedy and said it first. It's always been true."

Blaine just keeps smiling at him, his face soft and his eyes starry, and Kurt's starting to feel silly again, so he says, "I believe a response is traditional."

"You're forgetting that I proposed first - I think my response is pretty obvious, especially since I'm the one who wanted to get married _today_. But yes. I will marry you the moment you let me. Now put the ring on my finger and come here." 

So he does, pushing it past his knuckle, and Blaine stands and pulls him into his arms, burying his face against Kurt's neck. Kurt presses his cheek into Blaine's soft hair and presses his hands along Blaine's shoulder blades and holds him close, feeling the heat of his body and the sweetness of a soft kiss against the side of his neck, and he just doesn't _care_ who's watching. 

\---

They're quiet in the car, Blaine's hand tight on his knee but both of them a little stunned, and Kurt thinks about that musical number again, and how quickly a storyline can change. Just as the lights of Reno start to be visible, he asks, "Why didn't you ask when we were in Iowa?"

Blaine's quiet in the passenger seat, just looking at him for a minute. "I have no idea - I didn't even think about it." After a pause he says, "It's weird - it felt... too much like home?"

Kurt just says, "Yeah," and keeps driving, but he thinks about what's happening in their country, what's happening _everywhere_ , even back in Ohio, and he just says again, "yeah."


	9. (Day 6) Reno, Nevada to Palo Alto, California – 249 miles

They set an alarm for the first time on this trip, because they're meeting the movers and there's Bay Area traffic to contend with and Kurt is ready to get everything done. Blaine's feeling relaxed, though, sure of himself and the success of today in a way he hasn't been for most of this trip. He's done the hard part - he's nailed Kurt down to a general timeframe. The rest is just moving, and he's done some version of that every year for the last four.

And the day starts well, too. He and Kurt are up and out by dawn, and with a stop for coffee they're on the road. It's just a matter of minutes until they're pulling over again, and then they're angling to take photos of themselves while they squint against the sun in front of the "Welcome to California" sign. It's scary as hell - the pass is narrow, and they're up with the truckers so the road is busy - but Kurt finally sighs and nods in acquiescence and then they're back on the road, headed into Sierra County.

Kurt manages to get text messages sent just before they lose signal in the mountains, and then it's just a few hours' drive before they're home. Blaine's attuned to details - these could be _their_ mountains, they could come up here to get away from things, this is _home_ now, sort of. He glances over at Kurt, who's buried himself in a whole other set of details - the floorplan of the apartment, and where everything is going to _go_. Kurt's been thinking about this, planning out everything that could be planned, and maybe it's just that he's relying on Kurt handling it, but he's not the least bit worried.

They run into some traffic in Sacramento and the roads are full all the way to the Bay Area, but it's nothing they haven't planned for. Kurt's getting wound up next to him, anxious and fidgeting in his seat, and he keeps checking the time on his phone until he finally just sighs and tucks it into his bag somewhere in Oakland. But then there's an accident, and by the time they reach the last stoplight before their apartment complex they're half an hour late to meet their movers. They've spent the last hour strategizing their approach to the move-in, Kurt growing frantic and spinning out increasingly implausible what-if scenarios – what if the movers have left and they have to move everything themselves; what if they've forfeited their deposit on the apartment and don't have a place to live; what if their stuff is gone, only to be found by scouring resale shops and eBay.

Blaine sees the pod sitting two buildings from the front of the complex as soon as they pull in, and four guys are sitting on the curb next to it eating convenience store burritos. He pulls into a spot by the office and goes to meet the movers, apologizing profusely for being late. Kurt has, according to hastily assembled plan, gone into the office to get their keys.

The movers are friendly, happy to have had a chance to grab lunch while they waited, and seemingly unconcerned about the delay. They agree to hang out while Blaine climbs the stairs to the apartment they've been told they're moving into – everything looks fine from the outside, at least, and he tries to peer through the window but all he can see through the blinds is a sliver of wood laminate.

He waits with the movers for a few minutes, and they eventually stand up and start opening up the pod and getting blankets and dollies ready. When they've finished readying and are all just standing around by the open pod and Kurt _still_ isn't back with the keys, he excuses himself and goes after him, pushing the door to the office open.

What he finds is Kurt going full Lima Heights Adjacent on some poor girl's ass.

She looks like a student, dressed for her day job in a khaki skirt and a purple polo shirt, and she's looking at Kurt with wide eyes while he brandishes his file folder at her and impugns her intelligence. Her eyes dart to the door when she hears the bell jingle, and there's a flash of relief in her eyes before she starts to panic again, and Blaine feels bad for her for half a second before he just starts worrying all over again.

"Wait. I'm sorry, what's going on?"

"The manager isn't here. She left for lunch and _Miranda_ won't give us the keys without her approval." He glares across the desk at her, and she swings her eyes to Blaine and the look there is eerily familiar – it's like Finn after junior prom all over again.

"I see. Hey, Kurt, can you go introduce yourself to the movers and let them know our game plan?"

Kurt peers at him for a second, and Blaine moves close enough to murmur, "just wear the fucking uniform, already," before he moves away and smiles at Miranda. He can almost _feel_ Kurt rolling his eyes, but he slaps the file folder down on the counter and says to Miranda in his bitchiest tone, "My _partner_ will handle things from here," before he sweeps out of the office.

"Hi - Miranda, right? I'm Blaine Anderson, we're moving into 321 today? I'm sorry about that – we've been in the car for days and when he gets tired and frustrated he can be a little... well, you saw." He gives her his most charming smile, and she smiles back, like she can't help it, just like he knew she would.

It's the work of three minutes to convince her to get her manager on the phone, and before five minutes have passed he's walking out to the pod, jingling the keys in his hand.

Kurt has spread his drawings and itemized lists out along the hood of their car and the movers are clustered around him, smiling a little bewildered but listening, and Blaine waits until the first wave of the siege on their apartment is fully planned out before he interrupts with a, "hey!" and tosses the second set of keys to Kurt.

Kurt's hands are full and he fumbles the keys, but he still manages to roll his eyes and say, "Warblers forever" with sarcastic affection.

"Yeah, you ought to remember your own prep school experience every once in a while. It comes in handy occasionally," and Blaine shakes his own set of keys for emphasis.

He's waiting for the rejoinder, but Kurt just clutches his papers to his chest, sweeps past him and slaps his ass on the way, grinning back over his shoulder as he hurries up the stairs.

Blaine smiles after him and then goes to the car to start moving out Kurt's clothes. He can't _wait_ to get that goddamn wardrobe line out of there.

\---

With the six of them moving they manage to clean out both the car and the pod in just a matter of a few hours, and that's with Kurt stopping halfway through to start unboxing the kitchen. After he thanks the movers and signs off on the electronic pad, he joins Kurt there.

Kurt's stretching to put wine glasses on a high shelf, and Blaine stands in the doorway of their tiny galley kitchen to just look at him, his jeans cupping his ass and a sliver of skin visible where his shirt has pulled up. Kurt pulls out of the cabinet and slants a smile in his direction – "all done?" - and Blaine nods and goes to him then, pulling him into his arms and sliding his hands under Kurt's shirt to press warm across his back. Kurt's body is tight, tense energy, and he sighs before he softens just a little and sags into his arms.

"Hey there," Blaine says.

"Hello."

"We're home," he says into Kurt's shoulder, and he can feel Kurt's cheeks crease into a smile. "Everything okay in here? What do you need me to do?"

Kurt pulls back and looks around the room. "Actually, I'm pretty well set in here. Come into the bedroom with me?"

Blaine raises his brow, and Kurt slaps at his arm. "Later, definitely. No, come help me make the bed."

And so they each take a side, and they put Kurt's sheets on Blaine's bed, and then they stand there and grin stupidly across the bed at each other until Blaine faceplants across the comforter and Kurt jumps on top of him and pokes at him until he gets up to order pizza, because they skipped lunch and are both _starving_.

\---

After they've eaten Blaine finally finds his phone and checks in. He's missed a call from his parents, and Mallory's sent a text:

 _Mallory_  
Glad you made it to Cali in one piece. But I have to know: have you talked to K about The Thing?

 _Blaine_  
Yep. Next summer. He got down on one knee. It was adorable. Miss you!

 _Mallory_  
Sorry so long to respond – had to clean up the vom all over my new living room. Jesus, how many proposals are you two going to have?

 _Blaine_  
Don't be jealous! And as many as it takes. Send pictures of the new place!

 _Mallory_  
I like how you end up begging each other – kind of hot. And it's still a disaster here – I assume K already put up wallpaper?

He looks across at where Kurt is arranging their books, their films, their framed photos. He keeps putting things on shelves, standing back, swearing under his breath, and undoing his work. "Hey, Mal wants to know what's taking you so long with the wallpaper."

"Wallpaper is gauche, Blaine," he says absently, turning to put a pile of books on the floor.

Blaine grins and turns back to his phone.

 _Blaine_  
K says wallpaper is gauche. Duh, Graham. Send photos anyway. Will make me feel superior, and I live with K now. Will need it.

"A little help here, please?" Kurt says, just shy of snappish, and Blaine drops his phone on the sofa to give him a hand.

\---

By 9:30 they're both starting to drag and Kurt is getting snippier and snippier, but the bed is made and the kitchen is mostly put away and the boxes... well, the boxes they're going to have to live with for a while, but they have three days of playing house stretching out in front of them before Kurt has to go into work, and Blaine will be knocking around all summer, sponging off his boyfriend and being a layabout and finishing it all up. It's fine.

"It's _fine_ ," he says to Kurt, who is staring critically at the sofa.

"God, I just _hate_ this thing. I never should have let Carole talk me into taking it with us."

"She was trying to help – we should have realized months ago we didn't have a sofa between us. Will you just -" he grabs at Kurt's hand as he's stepping up to reposition a throw that he's thrown over the back. "Hey. Will you just forget about the sofa already? Nobody is here but us, and I don't care _at all_. Here, look," he says, and he throws himself back onto the sofa, pausing to fish out his phone where it digs into his ass from between the cushions and toss it to the floor. "There. Perfectly serviceable sofa."

"You're perfectly serviceable," Kurt grumbles, but he climbs on top of him, straddling him and shoving a knee down into the back of the sofa.

"So service me already."

Kurt groans and rests his forehead against Blaine's. "You are a terrible person, and I'm going to forget you ever said that."

Blaine reaches up and cradles his face, smoothing his thumbs across his cheeks. "Fine, how about this. 'Come to bed with me, baby.'"

"That's... marginally better." They both lie there, comfortable where they fell. "That means I have to get up, doesn't it?"

"I would try to carry you, but to be honest I'm pretty sure I'm not up for it." He grins after the fact when he realizes what he's said, and Kurt takes matters into his own hands and says, "Okay, you're getting loopy. Let's do this while we still can," and staggers up.

They clean up and drape their clothes over a chair and do all the things they do every night before bed, and something about that familiar routine in this brand new place makes everything a little more comfortable. Blaine looks at Kurt a little strangely when he puts Blaine's toothbrush in the decorative holder, but they've been so easy with each other for so long that this feels natural, simple, and it doesn't really matter where they're doing it.

When Kurt comes to bed he takes an elbow over Blaine and kisses him, one sweet kiss, and Blaine pushes some hair from Kurt's face and whispers, "Two weeks ago I was still an undergraduate, and now I'm living across the country with my boyfriend."

"Yes you are. I have to say, I think you're moving up in the world." He kisses down his jaw, sliding his hand into Blaine's hair and asking, "What do you want tonight?"

He stretches beneath him and lifts his chin and says, "God. Just... slow and lazy. If I could just somehow do this without moving at all, that would be perfect, but otherwise, just... something easy."

Kurt pushes at his side until he rolls, and Blaine pillows his head in his arms and lets out a groan when he feels oil across his shoulders – this is his _favorite_ , and exactly what he would have wished for if he'd felt like he could ask.

Kurt's thumbs are strong as they dig into his shoulders but they don't linger – in a perfect world Blaine would whine and beg for longer but he's legitimately _trying_ not to be a selfish ass here, and he knows Kurt is just as tired as he is. Kurt scoots down his back and his fingers follow, one long hard press and drag down his back until he's digging his fingers into Blaine's cheeks and licking down the place where they join. Kurt rims him long and slow, and Blaine closes his eyes and listens to his own breath against the pillow and lets his body go, lets himself fall into what Kurt's giving him. Kurt licks him until Blaine's ready to start begging, lifting his ass just a little and Kurt's right there, sliding in a finger slick with spit and a little massage oil. His fingers are deft, delicate, and then Blaine's gone, sobbing and gasping into the pillow, crying out and rubbing against the sheets until Kurt turns him on his side and takes him in, mouthing at the head and two fingers rubbing against his prostate and Blaine moans out his orgasm, his voice gritty and a little broken.

Kurt gentles him through it, then rolls him onto his back. He feels fuzzyheaded, completely high and utterly boneless, and when he feels Kurt squeeze more oil across his balls and the top of his legs he just moans – god, he loves this. Kurt crawls on top of him and laces their fingers together to push his hands back against the bed, dipping down for a kiss and a quickly murmured conversation; Blaine nods as he opens his mouth to Kurt's tongue, and it's dirty and intimate and everything he loves about sex. He crosses his ankles and squeezes around where Kurt's cock is pushing against and between his thighs and Kurt moans.

Kurt's relentless, newly energized and fucking against him hard and desperate, and Blaine can't even pull him closer – he just lies there while Kurt holds him down and takes what he wants from him. It's the right kind of too much, and Blaine floats away into it until Kurt groans harsh into his ear and pushes against him once, twice, and then stills, and Blaine untwists his legs to wrap them around the sides of Kurt's body while Kurt just sags and breathes against him, shuddering.

Kurt's worn himself down to match Blaine's exhaustion, so they wipe at the mess with the sheets (oil and come and whatever, just whatever) and they shove over to the other side of the bed, where Blaine curls up tight behind Kurt and wraps an arm around his waist. It's been such a long day, such a long _week_ , and Kurt will have him early up for laundry and groceries and worrying over the sofa but for now he wants to let it go, and he's close, _so close_ , when he hears Kurt's voice.

"Welcome home, Blaine." Kurt squeezes at the hand at his waist while he whispers. "Was it everything you hoped it would be?" 

He can hear the smile in Kurt's voice, the simple happiness there, and it makes him sigh sleepily into Kurt's hair. "We're not done yet, Kurt." He pushes closer, cinching his arm around Kurt's waist a little tighter, and murmurs in his ear. "Ask me later."


	10. Epilogue - Every Day After

There are things Blaine thought he would love about living with Kurt. He imagined waking up next to him every morning and falling asleep with him every night, taking Kurt to bed whenever the mood struck and without complex planning and a reliance on Expedia special offers. He daydreamed about having dinner ready when Kurt got home, and studying at the kitchen table while Kurt baked something,

There were things he wasn't ready for, like Kurt's passive-aggressive insistence on moving Blaine's toothbrush to the holder every damn morning, even after he told Kurt that those things grossed him out and he _liked_ to let it airdry on the edge of the sink. As it turned out, Kurt _muttered_ to himself when he was irritated, especially over work, and it made him tense to have to stand next to Kurt while he complained about work while they were just doing dishes together. For a month and a half, Blaine felt besieged by throw pillows Kurt had decided were the solution to their sofa problem; it felt like Kurt was picking up a new one every day, or they were multiplying or something, because he could barely even sit on their sofa. And it damn near took an argument for Kurt to _back off_ his affection for cheeseburgers, which really pissed Blaine off, considering Kurt had talked him into trying the damn things in the first place back in Salt Lake Fucking City. They were little annoyances, but that didn't make them any less real, and the one _big_ annoyance about that first year kept getting pushed to the side, because he knew Kurt was where he wanted to be, and at the end of the day, that's what mattered.

\---

There are things Kurt worried he might resent about living with Blaine. He lost sleep thinking about closet space. He imagined himself the keeper of Blaine's phone and his keys and devised foolproof plans for desk valets on entryway tables. He worried about Blaine's high tolerance for noise and clutter, and worried even more when he realized they were going down to one car and he really would have no space that was just his, that belonged to only him. And, at the end of the day, the scariest thing was the one he couldn't say out loud: what if it didn't work, what if after all of this sacrifice and difficulty and fucking _angst_ they fell apart when they were finally together, what if they'd grown too much to fit together again when they were living in each other's pockets, what if he'd left New York and moved across the country to be with a man who would fall out of love with hm.

He didn't expect to be so charmed all over again by Blaine's habit of whispering "love you" in the middle of the night when they rolled into each other, by the _constancy_ of it, the way it came every night and he never got tired of it. He thrilled every Tuesday and Thursday, when he'd come home limp and happy from yoga to let himself into their apartment and find Blaine at the kitchen table, surrounded by his laptop and his coursework, his glasses slipping down his nose and the smell of something wonderful coming from the kitchen. He _loved_ their Saturdays, when they'd go for a run together and then casually fool around in the shower before heading to the farmers market and picking out the best of what California had to offer, and their Sundays were lazy, aimless days - nobody had to pack, there was never any rush, and they would just rock around each other, adrift in their home. It was the simplest major life change imaginable.

\---

Nothing about it is easy, really, but then again nothing about it is really all that _difficult_ , either. Kurt misses New York, and he does occasionally miss the luxury of his own space, and no matter how silly those two things might seem together, it's true. Blaine misses Mallory and her simple, disarming candor, and he is surprised to sometimes miss the fullness of Kurt's attention that he'd enjoyed during those stolen weekends when they were in college; he will never doubt that his partner loves him, but Kurt's mind is a curious and busy place, and Blaine had never realized how scarcity focused Kurt, tethered him to the immediate and kept him from getting distracted with one more project. In some ways it's harder than they had anticipated, then, but even after the raucous joy of finally, _finally_ living together has worn in and worn off, it sneaks up on both of them in small ways. Every time Blaine looks up to tell Kurt something interesting that he's been reading and he's there, he's right _there_ , or when Kurt gets antsy and wants to dance and then follow it all the way through, wants a night out followed by a night in – there are these tiny revelations, over and over, that they are for each other, that they are _there_ for each other, and every time it's a cause for celebration.

Finally, then, after the dust settles, after the pictures are hung, after they finally sell the sofa to starving undergrads and dip into their savings for a new one, after they settle into the gentle and punctuated rhythm of tech weeks and hell weeks, this is how it goes.

\---

It's been a year and a half, now, and Blaine woke up this morning and opened his eyes to Kurt's old room and lay next to Kurt, listened to him breathe, and looked across the room at their picture from junior prom. They spend their first day back in Ohio for the holiday helping Burt and Carole and Finn and his on-again-off-again girlfriend Jenny trim the tree. (Kurt knows all the details of that particular drama; Blaine has been trying to hit the sweet spot of knowing just enough not to make an ass of himself, and so far, so good.) After dinner Kurt grabs his hand and pulls him into a kiss while they're clearing the table and says, "Hey, want to get out of here for a little bit?"

They borrow Carole's car, the latest model of the Mustang because Carole's going through a _thing_ and it amuses Burt endlessly to see his wife in a muscle car. Kurt guns the engine, accelerates into a curve and laughs, and Blaine shakes his head at him but looks at Kurt's pale hands wrapped around the leather-laced steering wheel, and when they get out at the Lima Bean and go for coffee, he holds Kurt's hands while they order – green tea latte for Kurt, medium drip for Blaine, because a lot of things change but some things are classics for a reason.

Once they're seated and settled, Kurt digs into his bag and slides a plain manila envelope across the table.

"Okay." Blaine looks up at Kurt's tone of voice, and his face is serious, intense. "I'm sorry I've made you wait. This is what we were waiting for."

Blaine raises a brow at Kurt but opens the envelope and just looks down at the paper, at the full and complete text of Ohio Senate Bill 137, comprehension dawning. After a minute he breathes out, "Of course we were. Kurt, why didn't you just _tell_ me?"

"Oh, Blaine. Just... let me back up. Last October I emailed Leroy Berry - when we started talking about them that day on the trip it got me thinking, and I thought he might know people at the state level, and he did. So then...."

So then Kurt tells him the story, about the phone calls he's made, the emails he's exchanged, the mailing lists he's been on. He's been following this discussion and this fight for over a year, since the new state legislature was installed, waiting and watching and considering. "And then by March it was starting to look good, the numbers were lining up and I thought, okay, this might happen, but the bill took _forever_ to actually be drafted and introduced and then last summer you were... I _knew_ you were unhappy about it, but you don't seem to want to really talk about it. And then ... there were finals and law clinic, and I just didn't want it to be one more thing for you to get wound up over. And besides, you have enough things you're passionate and stubborn about - this one was _mine_."

Blaine watches him as he says all of this, and he looks back down at the bill. The language is a version of what's been slowly sweeping across the country for over 10 years now, and this version is less restrictive than Nevada's old provision for domestic partnership and less open than places like Iowa and New York State. Yes to health care and shared benefits and tax breaks, no to calling it what it essentially was – civil marriage. There had been another spate of these this last fall, and he had known that Ohio had been among the list, had sat with other students and compared the provisions and wording of all of the laws, but he hadn't really _considered_ it, not personally, not as something for him.

He reaches across the table for Kurt's hand. "You wanted to get married _here_."

Kurt smiles and rolls his eyes. "I know, I know, it's ridiculous, but -"

"It's not ridiculous," Blaine interrupts. "It's... I don't know, I think it's... beautiful. Touching. Incredibly sweet."

Kurt smiles at him, a little bashful. "Yes. Well. I just.. we talked about it, and what I kept seeing was us, _here_."

Blaine thinks about it again, thinks about legally wrapping up his life and Kurt's, and it shifts so that it only makes sense that it should happen here, back where it all started, back where they started becoming the people, the _couple_ , that they are. He grins at Kurt, though, and says, "This is awfully sudden. I thought you said you didn't want it to be a whim."

Kurt raises a brow in response, and bends to his bag to pull out another file folder and slide it across the table. "Your birth certificate, a copy of your drivers license - everything we could need. I've been collecting information on you, Blaine Anderson, and there's nothing whimsical about it."

Blaine looks at the first sheet of paper and scans it, running his fingers over the raised seal of the state of Ohio. "Where did you get my birth certificate?"

"Your parents."

Blaine just stares at him for a minute, his birth certificate clutched in one hand and Kurt's hand in the other, and imagines that conversation, and then he says, "What would I _wear_?"

Kurt looks at him like he's crazy and shakes his head and says, "You're so lucky to be marrying so well. I shipped our favorite interview suits out here three weeks ago. Carole had them cleaned and pressed and they're sitting in my closet."

He grins, thinking about Kurt in his broad pink tie tied in an obnoxious full Windsor, about his own black jacket with the skinny lapels and the hidden houndstooth lining, and says, "oh."

"Blaine, we don't _have_ to. This is what I want, but I know you're getting attached to California, and if you really want to -"

Blaine interrupts. "January first? The law goes into effect January first?"

Kurt's eyes are searching his. "Yes, although the courthouse doesn't open until 9 am on the second."

Blaine squeezes his hand. "So I guess we should be there then."

\---

And they are – sort of. January 2nd dawns snowy and cold in western Ohio, but by 7:30 am the Hummel house is filling with people and activity. The Andersons arrive early, all three in one car, and when Blaine disappears straight away to let himself into Kurt's room to kiss him good morning Carole and Elaine share a smile and Carole pours them both a cup of coffee.

Mallory had to work the holiday and her drive over from Fort Wayne is slow because of ice on the roads, but she finally arrives in a whoop of noise and kisses and jokes all around, and when she squeezes Blaine tight his heart constricts at the joy of having her here with him. He watches Kurt pull her into a hug and he's touched, _so_ touched by their obvious affection for each other, by the joy of watching them bend their heads together and whisper. When he'd called her before Christmas to make sure she could be there on the 2nd he'd been stunned to find out that she'd known all along, that Kurt had included her in his web of information seeking, and that she'd put out feelers among new friends and colleagues in both Indianapolis and Columbus for any hints of knowledge about which way the wind was likely to blow in Ohio. It wasn't the first time they'd worked together to snow him, but of all of them, it might be his favorite.

By 10am they're pulling out of the neighborhood in a caravan of cars. The courthouse is busier than they thought it would be – families and media and a few sourfaced spectators, sure, but overall the atmosphere is more joyous than they expected for Allen County. Blaine and Kurt lead their friends and family hand-in-hand to the clerk's office and when Blaine holds the door for Kurt they're startled to come face-to-face with Rachel, who's smiling and dabbing at reddened eyes and standing between her dads. She takes one look at Kurt and then at Blaine, at their clothes and the small group assembled behind them, and bursts into noisy sobs, throwing herself at Kurt and clinging to him, pressing her face against his chest and reaching blindly for Blaine. Kurt's arms close around her automatically, and he gives a startled, anxious smile to Leroy, who laughs and claps him on the shoulder.

Finally she pulls back and says, "Kurt, why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"Rachel, look around. It's not like we didn't tell _you_ – it's just our families here. I didn't even tell Mercedes until yesterday." He looks at Blaine quickly, who's smiling and nodding. "Will you stay, though? Will all of you stay?" he asks, looking at Hiram and Leroy, so far down the line from where he and Blaine are but, for today, newlyweds. Leroy gives him a warm grin and Hiram looks misty-eyed, and they link hands behind Rachel's back and nod.

\---

There's paperwork, because Kurt had been right about that – at its core, legal marriage is about the sanction of the state, and the state does _nothing_ without formalities in triplicate. Kurt slides across their supporting documents and a $50 bill and he tucks the receipt for payment into his wallet, where he plans to keep it until it's ratty and torn.

They shuffle into a courtroom, and their families and friends stand around them in a loose half-circle. Blaine sees his mother move toward his father, and his father wraps his arm around his mother's shoulders while Mallory stands next to her elbow. Kurt watches Finn's broad grin, and the way Carole slides her hand into his dad's. His dad's smiling at him, his eyes watery and gentle, and the entire Berry family is standing behind his dad, just bearing witness.

And then Kurt and Blaine meet each other's eyes, and they take each other's hands. The Allen County Clerk takes a deep breath, and then they begin.

~FIN~


End file.
